Scarlet Shorts
by tromana
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short oneshots, featuring varying characters and ratings. New: Hot Tea and Tranquility: Contrary to popular belief, Red John is quite a normal man.
1. Unlawfully Killed

Scarlet Shorts is where I shall collect together all my Mentalist drabbles and ficlets shorter than 500 words. x tromana

**Title:** Unlawfully Killed  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane, Lisbon  
**Spoilers:** None

Unlawfully killed. That was the ruling on the death of his wife and daughter. Unlawfully killed, as if it wasn't bloody obvious. And Red John was still out there. Patrick Jane could almost see the mocking face, the grin pulled tight, dripping with malice. Whispering his name over and over…

"Patrick Jane, wake up!"He felt the hard slap of a co-worker and stumbled to consciousness. Lisbon was looking down on him, a half-smile traced across her lips.

"Case. The others are on their way."

"Right, good."

"It's good to see you're sleeping, Jane."

"Not for me," he replied grimly.


	2. Covert Operations

**Title:** Covert Operations  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters:** Jane, Cho  
**Spoilers: **1.20 Red Sauce

"You've brought her a what?"Agent Cho's eyes widened in surprise as Patrick Jane grinned at him.

"A pony. It goes clip-clop and eats copious volumes of hay." Jane addressed Cho as if he was addressing a child. "You know, I've never understood the point of the saying 'eat like a horse'. Does it really mean you're suddenly going to start eating a massive amount of dried grass products?"

Cho briefly left Jane to his procrastination, whilst considering exactly what he had asked. It didn't take him long to come to a decision.

"Yeah, I'll help you get it in."

Jane grinned. One down, two to go. Sneaking the pony in would be a piece of cake.


	3. Speed

**Title: **Speed  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **Jane and Lisbon. In a car. He's driving too fast. She hates it.  
**Notes: **Couple of swears  
**Prompt:** reason behind Lisbon's complaints against Jane driving.

**Speed**

He'd insisted. He'd bloody insisted upon driving her car to the crime scene. Patrick Jane had only been working for the SCU for three days, reckoning if he could work out her favourite colour, of all things, she should allow him to drive. And naturally, using his stupid mental tricks, he did.

Lisbon cringed as they careered around yet another corner, this so-called consultant taking it way, way too fast. She clenched her jaw as her hand tightened on the door handle, to the extent that her knuckles began whitening. This was definitely going to be the last time she ever let him drive her anywhere.

She gasped for air. She did not want to die. Not like this, not like…

Lisbon shook her head and refocused. Carefully, she counted from one to ten slowly, trying to bring her breathing back under control. She absolutely was not going to make a fool out of herself in front of that sonovabitch consultant that Minelli had foisted upon her.

All she could see was her mother. Her beautiful, caring mother kissing her gently on the forehead whilst ensuring her daughter was strapped safely into that death trap. Just to go to the pharmacy to pick up a cold remedy to treat Teresa's cold. It was so terribly mundane. The other car had come out of nowhere. She had had her eyes firmly shut as impact was made, and the car spun. The sensations her body was subjected to was like some sick kind of fairground ride.

It had taken her half a minute to gain the confidence to open her eyes. It took another five for someone to stop and call 911, having discovered a little girl bawling, begging her Mommy to wake up. The bastard that hit them hadn't even had the decency to stop and see if either of them had survived.

Luckily, she had survived. Just a broken leg. When the kind nurse told her that her mother had died in the accident, she refused to believe. It wasn't until her tear-stricken father wrapped his arms around her, kissed her gently and told her 'Mommy's gone' that she began to realise she'd never see her mother again.

Lisbon never wanted to revisit those memories again. It had taken years of compartmentalisation for her to be able to cope, yet she still had an allegedly irrational fear of speeding, especially for a cop. If she could wish them away, she would have, but naturally that wasn't possible so attempting to forget was the closest she could get.

When Jane pulled to a halt, it was a blessed relief to get out. The moment he'd locked the car, she immediately snatched the keys out of his hands, glaring.

"You drive too fast," she announced. "You could have got us both killed."

"I do not," he retorted.

She breathed in deeply, glad for the cool air. At least the jumped-up psychic who wasn't hadn't seemed to notice just how nervous she had become in the car. However, something made her think that this would be an argument they'd revisit many a time.


	4. Hell Is Little People

Title: Hell Is Little People  
Rating: T  
Spoilers: None  
Prompt: hell is little people.

**Hell Is Little People**

It was some kind of conspiracy, Jane was certain of that. The petite dark-haired Senior Agent practically elbowed him out of the way just so she could get a look in on the crime scene. Not Rigsby, not Van Pelt, hell, not even Cho got the kind of contemptuous treatment from Lisbon that he did.

Still, it could be worse. He peered over her head, trying to absorb the details.

"You really are quite short, aren't you?" he muttered into Lisbon's ear.

Milliseconds later, her elbow shot into his gut, leaving him reeling.

"What was that for?"She raised an eyebrow. Jane had read somewhere, probably the internet, that 'hell is little people'. Obviously the person who came up with that saying was very well acquainted with a certain Teresa Lisbon.


	5. Misconceptions

**Title:** Misconceptions  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Lisbon, Jane, Van Pelt, Rigsby  
**Spoilers:** 1.16, Bloodshot  
**Summary:** Chocolate is the way to a woman's heart, right?  
**Disclaimer:** Well I didn't get the Mentalist for my birthday, so it's still not mine.

**Misconceptions**

It's a common misconception that every woman loves chocolate. Jane always ensured he had a spare bar about his person just in case one of his two favourite women, Lisbon or Van Pelt, was having a particularly rough day. He'd needed it when Van Pelt had found out just what a bastard Dan Hollerbeck really was. After Rigsby had made his excuses to go fill in some kind of form, Jane had spent several hours rubbing the poor girl's back soothingly before presenting her with the treat. She'd smiled appreciatively, whilst Lisbon watched approvingly for a change. Jane had time to flash her a knowing smile before returning his attentions to Grace.

Once, he'd even had to use the magic of the chocolate bar on Rigsby. But that was different. They'd been on their way to question a victim's family and he hadn't shut up about just how hungry that he was. It also didn't help that Rigsby knew full well that Jane always carried a bar of chocolate in case of emergencies. Eventually Jane had to give in and hand over the candy, if only to shut him up and attempt to satisfy the void that was Rigsby's stomach for a couple of minutes.

Lisbon was upset, and Jane hadn't had the time to fathom out why she was so withdrawn. There were occasions when the case just got to her for no obvious reason, and Jane had surmised that it was probably the stress of the job. Being surrounded by death and destruction for as long as Lisbon had was always going to leave repercussions. The case that had just been closed involved the death of a toddler and a baby. The mother had wanted to kill herself, but killed the elder of her two children first to catch the attention of her estranged husband. Once her audience was big enough, she jumped, baby in arms and Lisbon had fell into a moody silence ever since. The rest of the team seemed to know to stay well away, but that wasn't going to stop Patrick Jane.

As he turned the door handle to her office, he carefully slipped out his fail-safe peace offering. Lisbon had her head on her desk and was sobbing gently. Jane had to admit that the case had got to them all a bit, and was certain that Lisbon blamed herself for the death of the baby. She seemed to be blaming herself personally, insisting that if she hadn't let Jane wind up the suicidal mother so much, if she'd got there earlier than maybe, just maybe, she'd have been able to save a life. Or two.

"I've brought chocolate?"

Lisbon's head snapped up and she shook her head at the gift held out in faith by Jane. He frowned and pulled up a chair, staring intently at his boss. As far as he was concerned, a woman never refused chocolate. It was unheard of that a woman didn't like it. Besides, if she didn't like chocolate, he should have known by now.

She shrugged. "It gives me migraines."

Ah. He wished he worked that one out before. A weepy Lisbon was one thing. A crotchety, weepy Lisbon would be another thing entirely.

end


	6. Job Well Done

**Title:** Job Well Done**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon**Spoilers:** No**Job Well Done**

Patrick Jane needs reminding that he does a good job quite frequently. It's not that he's egotistical. Well, he is, but that's not the reason why. He needs to be reminded because he feels like doing his job well is the only thing he has left to live for excepting vengeance.

These days, however, Jane needs reminding less and less. It took him a short while, but he's realised he likes his boss. As in likes, likes. He may not work by the exactly right procedures, but he gets the job done. And the satisfied smile he receives from Lisbon once the case is closed is usually enough to distract him from his darker thoughts for a day or two.

If only he didn't feel like he was betraying his wife and wasn't filled with self-loathing and pity about her and their daughter's murders. Then maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to try and move on with Teresa Lisbon.


	7. Escape

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews. If anyone has any prompts they would like me to tackle, feel free to leave it in a review. I can't promise to write anything quickly, but I'll do my best. x tromana**

**Title:** Escape  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Lisbon/Jane  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Summary:** There are times when Lisbon really hates her job.  
**Notes: **Written for the http:// jello-forever . proboards . com July '09 challenge. Prompt: Beach Time.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Escape**

Her footsteps slapped reassuringly against the warm, damp Californian sand as she pushed herself onwards.

Here, she wasn't Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon. She wasn't anyone's boss, not for a weekend, at least. Right now, she was just Teresa, taking a weekend out from her job like any normal person does.

Not that anyone can truly take a break from her line of work.

Teresa only ever ran for pleasure on the beach. She had heard from somewhere that the sand absorbed more of the shock and caused less stress to the bones in the legs. Whatever the reasons, biologically or otherwise, she simply found the noise therapeutic - especially when coupled with the orchestra of waves accompanying it.

This was it. Her escape. The perfect place to run and hide. To work through the moral dilemmas she faced on a day to day basis. She stopped and flopped down onto the sand, hugging her knees to her chest. Two kids were happily frolicking in the sea in front of her. They looked so innocent and carefree. Teresa literally couldn't remember a time when she had been without responsibility. She had killed. Again. What would their parents think if they knew their beloved children were playing in front of a murderess? The CBI could quite happily dress it up all they liked - self defence, maintenance of law and order, whatever - but boiling it down to simple facts still didn't change that she had taken the life of another human being.

It was the part she loathed about the job. The death, the destruction. It was just an extension of the carnage she'd lived through during her childhood. She thought that entering the profession would do some good, but instead pain just followed her wherever she went. Teresa knew she was good at her job and it brought about justice - there were just times she wished there was another way.

Another Monday rolled around all too quickly. Lisbon had managed to burrow away the horrendous sense of guilt over the weekend and strode into her office with an air of confidence. Jane was flaked out over his couch and she smiled as he stirred and made eye contact with her.

She barely got around to shutting the door when he was there. That man woke up far too quickly from the little sleep he obtained. He grinned as he handed her a bottle of after sun.

"Next time," he whispered gently before he stroked her burnt nose gently. "Talk to me? We don't need you punishing yourself with sunburn down the beach each time a case goes wrong."

**end**


	8. Faith Lost

This might offend those easily offended when it comes to religion. If that's the case, please don't read for your sake as much as mine. I apologise in advance.

**Title: **Faith Lost  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: T  
****Characters: **Lisbon  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **Every day, Lisbon goes to sleep with less faith than she started.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Mentalist. Sorry.  
**Notes:** PhoenixWytch's prompts 012: silver cross.

**Faith Lost**

It is the first thing she puts on in the morning and the last thing she takes off at night. No one questions her wearing it these days but sometimes Lisbon wished they did. Her silver cross was far from ostentatious, in fact it could be described as the complete opposite. It was the last piece of jewellery she had been given by her mother, and the only thing she had left from her at all.

She began doubting her belief the day her mother died. She had done nothing wrong and hadn't deserved to be killed by a drunk driver. Her indoctrination had lead her to believe that the good were praised, the evil punished. So, to see the woman who had brought her up lying on her deathbed whilst her father explained how they were going to switch off the life-support had given the eight year old Teresa some serious moral questioning to do.

Her father's subsequent alcoholism hadn't helped, nor had her brother going completely off the rails. She had scraped together every last cent she could to be able to force herself through college. And still she believed. Believed there was a reason for righteousness, that there was some divine spirit whom she could turn to in times of trouble. Yet the cracks were there, and she knew it wouldn't require much to destroy it beyond recognition.

She soon found out that her dream job never helped. There were times it nearly destroyed her faith in humanity as well as religion. How people could commit such heinous acts would always baffle her. The presence of such wrong-doing in a place that was meant to be so much more than it was always left her wondering. Every day, she had gone to sleep with a little less faith than she had started out with. She could picture her mother's disappointment, if she'd ever known that this was how her only daughter would turn out like.

Teresa Lisbon cannot pinpoint the moment she had completely lost faith. She still wore the cross around her neck out of principle, though.

end


	9. Handcuffed

**A/N: Funny what plot bunnies run through your mind when you have a migraine, isn't it?**

**Title:** Handcuffed  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Lisbon/Jane, Team  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **One way to keep Jane out of trouble…  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. I have a migraine I'm trying to get rid of, though. Any takers?  
**Notes: **PhoenixWytch's prompts 001: Lisbon's handcuffs

**Handcuffed**

Agent Cho raised an eyebrow, Van Pelt gasped in shock and Rigsby had to stifle his laughter. Their boss had just handcuffed the irrepressible Patrick Jane to the wrought iron headboard of a hotel bed and left him there. Worst of all, they all knew what she was wearing. Her little black dress was enough to get anyone hot under the collar - even Jane - and all part of the undercover plan they had meticulously worked out.

Cho raised his eyes to the heavens. He knew full well there'd been enough sexual tension between the pair to melt said wrought iron. He only hoped when Lisbon returned to the hotel room where Jane was currently held against his own wishes, that she'd remember to switch off the hidden camera and microphone.

(Cho partially hoped something would come of it. It was bad enough that Van Pelt and Rigsby weren't bold enough to sort themselves out.)

***

Jane pouted as Lisbon headed back towards the door, but not without checking the gun she had safely concealed.

"Lisbon?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"How are you going to cuff the suspect without…"

He gesticulated towards the handcuffs tightly wrapped around his wrists. This was all rather embarrassing. Whilst he did have a lot of respect for Lisbon, it was all well and good when someone else was on the receiving end. But having just had her tackle him to the bed whilst the others watched through the hidden camera, was another thing entirely.

(against his own wishes, he'd often had dreams of Lisbon and her handcuffs. None of them happened like _this_, though.)

Lisbon grinned at him. "I have Cho's. Now, try and get some sleep or something. I'll see you later."

Damn that woman. Just because she didn't want him to piss off the suspect and have him make a run for it. It didn't mean she had to handcuff him to a bloody bed of all things. He could be quiet. Sometimes. And he didn't annoy everyone he met. Not on purpose anyway.

And it didn't help that the idea of a murderer flirting with _his_ Lisbon sickened him to the stomach.

(strange, that if it had been Van Pelt undercover, he wouldn't have minded quite so much.)

***

Lisbon smiled, fluttered her eyelashes and attempted to wrap the suspect around her little finger. He grinned back in return and asked her outside for a breath of fresh air. Blushing slightly, she agreed. It was only after he admitted to his crimes (after he'd surreptitiously drawn a gun on her), that she whispered the codeword which sent the team into action.

(she nearly succeeded; he was a clever bastard and could tell that her heart wasn't really in it.)

The bullet winged her, and she knew it would require medical attention later. It took her seconds to have her own gun trained on him as Rigsby flattened him, and Van Pelt handed dealt with the cuffs. They were all relieved; that could have gone horribly wrong - none of them knew how they'd have coped without their Senior Agent in action.

***

She may have told him to get some rest, but Jane was attempting to pick the lock on Lisbon's handcuffs. Picking locks required a knack, and that was significantly hampered with hands restrained behind the back. Harry Houdini was some kind of miracle man, obviously.

When he heard the shot fired from somewhere below, in the courtyard, his entire body stiffened. Lock picking could wait. That was either an incredibly good sign, or an incredibly bad one.

(Jane had a sneaky suspicion what the outcome would be, but dreaded the alternative.)

When he heard the various voices of the entire team, each shouting to be heard over the others, he couldn't help but be relieved.

Now, all he had to play was the waiting game. Lisbon wouldn't be cruel enough to leave him tied up all night. Would she?

***

It was several hours after all the action when she did decide to return.

(Jane had been beginning to think she had left him. Bitch.)

His grin slid from his face as he saw the bandage around her upper right arm. He thought they'd all been fine. It was virtually unheard of for any of the team, least of all the infallible Teresa Lisbon, to pick up an injury. Even with the bandage and especially with her dress slightly askew, she looked beautiful. And there was still that cheeky glint in her eyes.

"Hang on a second."The microphone and hidden camera were turned off and safely put out of sight.

(somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, Cho breathed out a sigh of relief. There are just some things about your co-workers you don't want to know.)

"I get the impression Cho seems to think something is going to happen between us tonight," she offered by way of explanation.

Jane wriggled uncomfortably on the bed as she tentatively approached him. He'd been sitting still - relatively speaking for quite some time. And that did nothing for the circulation. He gulped slightly as he watched the sway of her hips, not even noticing her withdraw the key to the handcuffs.

(he hadn't realised just how much he wanted this. For goodness knows how long, he'd been telling himself otherwise. And now, she was tormenting him, god-dammit.)

She was so tantalisingly close to him, he could smell the delicious mix of sandalwood and cinnamon scent she wore on special occasions. His eyes darkened as she inched closer to him. He tried to decipher every little twitch of her mouth whilst his brain just refused to operate in a sane manner.

His hands were suddenly free from behind his back. He tested them tentatively as she began to saunter off.

"Wait."

She turned on the balls of her feet as he called for her to stay, desperately so.

(this still wasn't how he imagined it. He didn't care.)

His lips crashed hungrily against hers. Once she regained her senses and realised what _Patrick Jane _was doing to her, she raised her hands and allowed her fingers to run through his blond curls. She'd always imagined he'd be a good kisser - but even an over-active imagination couldn't have pinpointed the exact mix of passion and fury that he managed to convey.

They both knew it was wrong, but as he took her hand and led her back to the bed, she followed anyway.

(seemed Cho was right after all. Though, they didn't quite manage to literally melt the iron bed frame…)

end


	10. Bloodlust

**A/N: Gosh, bad few days. Thank you so much for the reviews and kind words you guys have sent me. It's helping me through a really rough patch. No kidding. Anyway, as this is the tenth update, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed in no particular order.**

**PhoenixWytch (thanks for the prompts, too!), Madaboutthementalist, sprntrl grl, SpaceAnJL, kitten4979, Divinia Serit, x-gemarrrr, WildDaisies10, JollyRancher543321, mwalter1, FallIntoAHellCalledLove, Ebony10, Frogster, EastAngels2009.**

**Thanks for making my days a little brighter. :-)**

**x tromana**

**Title:** Bloodlust  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane, Frankie O'Keefe  
**Spoilers: **1.02 Red Hair and Silver Tape  
**Summary: **It broke Jane's heart to see the boy so caught up in rage.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Notes: **Episode tag to 1.02 - Red Hair and Silver Tape

**Bloodlust**

It practically broke Patrick Jane's heart to see little Frankie O'Keefe so desperately caught up in rage. Vowing to avenge his elder sister's death. And with an axe, of all things. It was only natural, he mused. The young lad loved his sister desperately; she'd always been around and now there was an empty void which the pretty redhead used to fill. For the past three days, he's probably woken up, expecting her to be clattering around in the kitchen, making coffees and cussing because her toast had burnt.

It would have been bad enough when she'd gone to college in fall. The house would be emptier, as it is now. But this was different; she'd been taken away permanently, instead of just being a telephone call away. And Jane knew only too well how that felt like.

Somehow, it wasn't right for Frankie to be carrying around the desire to maim, to kill. He had his whole life ahead of him - he could go to college, meet a girl, have kids, a fulfilling career. Anything he wanted was all at his fingertips. He hadn't wasted half his life lying and cheating his way to the top. To waste all those opportunities when he was barely a teen was ridiculous.

Lisbon would say he was being hypocritical. That it was okay for his mind to be filled with bloodlust, but not the boy's. But this was different. He was the reason his wife and beautiful little girl were murdered. Frankie's sister was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And yet, it probably hurt him just the same.

It was different… wasn't it?


	11. Reading

**A/N: Family politics - worse than office politics, I imagine. And thanks to JocelynMcC - I can't believe I forgot you on the previous thank you list, and everyone else who has come on board. I'll leave it there before it all gets too silly. x tromana**

**Title:** Reading  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **K+  
**Characters:** Cho  
**Summary: **Cho goes with a book like Lisbon shouting at Jane.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Notes: **Inspired by the cliché list on jello-forever. Only sort-of busting it, I'm afraid.

**Reading**

They always seem to see Kimball Cho with a book.

What they don't notice is how rarely he actually turns a page.

They assume he does, because Cho goes with a book like salt and pepper, bread and butter, Lisbon and shouting at Jane.

He really spends most of his time observing, scheming, just thinking.

From over the top of his book, the team leave him in peace. Leave him to think his way through problems with the case, observe the interplay between members of the team. Consider ways of simply making the omnipresent tension more bearable for all five involved.

He's made several breakthroughs whilst allowing the words on the page to merge into one. With cases, that is, not with office politics. It relieves him that he's not physically - or emotionally - attracted to any of the others. He can appreciate that both Lisbon and Van Pelt are attractive women in many, many ways, no doubt. He is, however, quite happy to leave them to Jane and Rigsby respectively.

He has bigger fish to fry - especially with his mother breathing down his neck about marriage and the dangers of his career path.

One day, he'll actually finish chapter seven of the damn book. In the mean time, he has all the entertainment he needs.


	12. Learning Curve

**Title:** Learning Curve  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **K+  
**Characters:** Van Pelt, Lisbon  
**Summary: **Grace Van Pelt is still learning where the boundaries lie.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.  
**Notes: **Episode tag to 1.03 Red Tide

**Learning Curve**

Grace Van Pelt is still learning where the boundaries lie.

She knows about Jane's past - but that's because everyone does. He was a minor celebrity only six years ago and at college she absorbed gossip magazines voraciously, eating up every little detail about the murder of his wife and child. If she'd known that she would be working closely with him in the future, she'd never have touched their glossy pages.

Cho's stint in juvie surprised her. But it was all clear as day in his file. As was Rigsby's mild violent streak. She'd made a point about reading them; it was the only way she knew she'd find out about the history of her co-workers without explicitly making a point of asking. And she's the junior agent, the rookie. Grace knows no one will take her seriously, not yet, anyway. She knows she still has to prove herself to them.

So, when Grace asks her boss how she's coping with a case which involves a history oddly similar to her past, many emotions seem to flash through Senior Agent Lisbon's eyes. Self-pity? Just a little. Sadness? Naturally. And anger. Grace knows the anger isn't just at the fact another family is suffering because of a father's pigheadedness, but it's also directed at _her_. Because she has to be the one to drag personal issues into the limelight when they can quite happily be brushed under the carpet.

Grace has always been taught to talk through her problems, whether it was with her Dad, the footie team or mates at school. Lisbon hasn't had that luxury. The look she gives her after scrambling to her feet, clearly embarrassed about the fall, is enough to make Grace feel one inch tall. And all she wants to do is hug her boss, make sure she knows she is cared about, is appreciated. That there are people who will always be there for her no matter what. Grace cares about her boss dearly, even though they have only been working together for a couple of months. It's been more than enough time to establish the roots of trust.

She hopes that one day, maybe, Lisbon will be able to put aside the excuse of 'professionalism'. That time will allow Lisbon to trust her enough to remove some of the barriers to be able to talk through issues rather than hide them. Grace is well aware that she's living on false dreams and all that when it comes to talking about personal issues.

All she can do is hope that one day, Lisbon will trust her as much as Grace trusts her boss.

**end **


	13. Breaking Protocol

**Title:** Breaking Protocol  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Unspecified M/F  
**Summary: **They hope that no one else notices.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.  
**Notes: **I'm not sure how well this works out. I also would have tried so that it could have applied to any coupling, but that would have _literally_ driven me mad. I'm interested in who you see this as being, too.

**Breaking Protocol**

They hope that no one else notices.

The furtive glances, the gentle brush of hands, the half-smile traced across their lips.

She feels like a hypocrite. She spouts off rules and regulations like no tomorrow, yet here she is, breaking the very actions she condones. When they are away from prying eyes, he smiles and wraps an affectionate arm around her shoulders. You can't help who you fall in love with, can you?

He's proud, proud that he's finally, finally with the woman he loves. Damn the rules. Damn the consequences. Damn the fact that they're putting both their jobs on the line for something that might not even work out in the long run. Besides, he's the happiest he's been in a long while and still can't quite believe he's dating someone so beautiful and intelligent as she is.

She is concerned - concerned that the others will work it out and report them to Minelli. She doesn't like causing trouble, that's not what she's here for, and doesn't want to lose the respect of the others in the unit. He tries to comfort her. The others are too wrapped up in their jobs, he says. Their unit is too busy for them to notice their liaisons. They'll be fine.

He wants to shout out about their relationship from the rooftops. It's not as if they'll be able to keep it secret forever, after all. He knows the rest of the team wouldn't go running to the authorities about something like this. On the contrary, they'd probably be supportive so long as they didn't flaunt it in the office.

He makes an effort to show more physical gestures at work. She brushes him off each and every time. She's not ready for this yet. He gets the message and backs off. Their illicit affair will continue under smoke and mirrors for a while yet.

They will tell the rest of the team eventually. They will. They just want to be sure that this is exactly what they both want first.


	14. An Eye For An Eye

**Title:** An Eye For An Eye  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane, Lisbon  
**Summary: **…and soon, the whole world will be blind.  
**Disclaimer:** If it were mine, I'd have no need for a disclaimer.

**An Eye For An Eye**

Jane glanced up from where he sat; the wrong side of the interrogation table.

He knew it was Lisbon who walked in; he'd learned a long while ago the different footfalls of each member of the team. Lisbon always walked with determination, probably placing down more weight with each step than was entirely necessary, but it was all to assert herself as being boss.

She was trying desperately to make herself unreadable - trying, and failing. Over the years they had worked together, she had learned a few tricks. But they were all coming apart at the seams, like this scenario was one step too far.

He'd warned her that when they finally caught up with Red John, that he would seek his vengeance.

She had obviously thought the years had softened him. That he wouldn't be able to do it.

Lisbon had been wrong, of course.

"Does it feel any better now?" she asked, tonelessly.

"No."

Of course it didn't feel any better. Murdering the man, if you could even call Red John that, didn't bring his family back. It didn't quash the grief still coursing through his veins, the hatred for the beast who reminded Jane of his true colours. The emotions he may - though he'll never be sure now - had been developing for his feisty boss. They were all still present. As was the sickness, the fact that people could say he dragged himself down to Red John's level by killing him. An eye for an eye, some might say. Why was it that only now he could remember the adage 'an eye for an eye, and soon the whole world will be blind'?

Jane stared hopefully into her eyes, hoping to see the indeterminable rage that would usually be present.

All he saw was pity. And that's what was worst of all.


	15. Punishments

**A/N: I will write something fluffier for SS soon. I _promise_. x tromana**

**Title:** Punishments  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane, Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby  
**Summary: **Hell hath no fury like a small, angry, dark-haired woman.  
**Disclaimer:** If it were mine, I'd have no need for a disclaimer

**Punishments**

"Jane!"

Cho winced and looked over at Jane sympathetically. Lisbon had just stormed back into the bullpen, looking particularly fierce. It had been years, literally, since he had heard his boss yell at someone using that specific tone of voice. The unfortunate Agent had been fired the next day. Still, it wasn't surprising she was so pissed off. They all were. In fact, Cho was surprised that Rigsby wasn't currently tearing the consultant limb from limb at that very moment. That would probably still be a mild punishment compared to whatever Teresa Lisbon had in store for him.

"How is she, boss? Can we visit her yet?"

Lisbon's gaze softened as Rigsby tentatively asked what they had all been thinking. The poor man had spent the past two hours shredding any piece of paper that was unlucky enough to get in his way. His desk looked like a recycling bin had been upturned on it now.

"She should, _should_ be fine," Lisbon told him gently. "And no visitors 'til morning. Doctor's orders."

Rigsby, obviously disappointed, headed back to his bombsite of a desk, before changing his mind and strolled into the kitchenette instead. Lisbon took the time to glare at Jane again and he meekly followed. Well, as meekly as Patrick Jane could, anyway. Yup, poor bloke, mused Cho. He returned his attentions back to the case file Lisbon had practically flung at him before she had left the CBI headquarters earlier. Cho had a relatively high level of self-preservation. There was absolutely no way he was going to get between his boss and her prey.

"What were you thinking? You nearly had Agent Van Pelt killed!"

"Calm down, woman," he replied, smirking. "Nearly. And you said yourself that she will be fine."

"Should be." Lisbon glowered at him. "If she doesn't make a full recovery…"

"Grace knows full well that she has a dangerous career."

"Made all the more dangerous by your crazy schemes!" Lisbon didn't care who heard now. "Goddammit, Jane. That's what the rules are there for."

Rigsby slammed the fridge door, returned to the bullpen and threw an appreciative Cho a yoghurt. He glanced over at his desk. Bloody nerves. Bloody Patrick Jane, for that matter, too. Hearing Lisbon's irate voice through her closed office door made him certain that leaving Jane to her was the right decision.

"You don't think we should step in now, do you?" Rigsby asked, though not really feeling like doing so at all.

"Nope."

Ouch. Now everyone within 100 metres knew Jane was getting a suspension. And exactly why. Everyone in the vicinity was also probably aware that had it been anyone but Jane putting Van Pelt's life in danger, Lisbon would have kicked their ass out of the building by now. But Lisbon's soft on Jane, and thankfully, he closes cases so she has an excuse to be. And with any luck, Van Pelt would probably be back by the Monday, but as far as Rigsby was concerned Jane deserved everything he got, today, at least. He knew they'd all think twice before going on one of Jane's crazy-ass plans after he got back from the suspension Lisbon was currently detailing to him. For a while, at least.


	16. Scarlet Shorts

**A/N: I know I promised several of you the sequel to _Punishments_ today, but a) I also promised something fluffier and this fits the bill and b) I couldn't resist the prompt. Well, could you? x tromana**

**Title:** Scarlet Shorts  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Team  
**Summary: **Jane likes short shorts. Scarlet shorts, that is.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine, thank goodness.  
**Notes: **Written for Madaboutthementalist. Prompt: Scarlet Shorts

**Scarlet Shorts**

It takes a lot to get Patrick Jane to sleep; it's the curse of the insomniac.

However, lying in a park, the sun beating down upon him, with grass tickling his back and his co-workers bickering, somehow lulled him to sleep. The sound of their voices mixed with the pleasant breeze just seemed to have that affect on him.

Usually, when he dreamed, they were filled with macabre blood red grins, mocking laughter and more than enough dead bodies to last a lifetime.

As he slipped into the dream world, he was pleased to see his psyche had latched onto something rather different for a change. To be precise, his boss and the junior Agent. Wearing of all things, tiny tops and short scarlet shorts.

He'd always appreciated that both women were very beautiful inside and out. So Van Pelt was a little highly strung and Lisbon had more control issues than you can shake a stick at, but that didn't stop him admiring them both. Jane was fairly certain his imagination was exaggerating things, though. Lisbon's legs _definitely_ weren't that long and Van Pelt wasn't _that _confident in her appearance.

Still, it made for pleasant viewing, to say the least.

"Oi, Jane!"

Small hands were shaking him quite violently. Bleary eyed, the real Lisbon came into view. Sadly, she was wearing her typical pants and shirt combination rather than the shorts that she carried off effortlessly in his dreams. She also looked a mite guilty about waking him up from his slumber. And more than a little confused.

"What are you looking so pleased about?"

"Oh, scarlet shorts," Jane grinned.

"Scarlet shorts?" Lisbon echoed, sounding slightly incredulous.

"Scarlet shorts," he nodded.

He stood up, brushed the grass from his suit and followed the team back to the SUV. Playtime was obviously over. He let his eyes trace over Lisbon's figure as she stomped onwards ahead of him. Yes, those scarlet shorts he'd dreamt of would look very good on her, even without the exaggerations his dreams allowed for.

***

He dozed on the couch, semi-hoping that scarlet shorts would embrace any dreams he'd be lucky enough to snatch. However, they'd been back in the office after a week of fieldwork and for some reason since then, sleep had been something that was always a fingertip out of reach. Normally, the general hubbub was enough to allow him to gain at least half an hour's sleep. Case closed, it was back to the normal-ish routine of coffee (or tea) and paperwork.

The bullpen was filled with all the normal noises that had a soporific effect on him. He could hear the familiar tapping of keys from Van Pelt's desk, the rustle of pages from Cho's direction and well, Rigsby's general noises. There was also the hushed whispering of Lisbon and Van Pelt. Through a half-open eye, he could see the glint in the eyes of he pale-skinned, dark haired woman's even from where he was laying. And Van Pelt was continually flicking cautious glances in his direction. What were those two up to?

He turned over and heavy-but-not footsteps approached him. Followed by a piece of material being flung in his face. That was… unexpected.

Jane sat up. Lisbon was looking over him, arms folded and a self-satisfied smirk was written across his features. He unfolded the bright red material. Shorts. Men's shorts. Men's scarlet shorts.

"Well, they seemed to make you so happy a week ago and I thought we should do something about it," Lisbon explained. "Though, don't wear them around the office, we get enough interns and secretaries trying to find excuses to hang around here without you wearing next to nothing."

Damn. That woman always found ways to catch him off guard. Every time he thought he knew exactly what made her tick, she had to pull a stunt like this. Oh well, he mused. Knowing there was always the possibility of a comeback made tormenting the woman that little more fun.

**end**


	17. Consequences

_Follow-up to Punishments - with thanks to SpaceAnJL_

**Consequences**

Lisbon sent Jane off with an angry glare. She would calm down, eventually. But she hated seeing any of her team - including Jane suffering. This time it was worse simply because the blame could easily be placed on the consultant. If he hadn't put Van Pelt in the line of fire. If he hadn't roused the anger of the hot-headed suspect. If he…

She shook her head. No point thinking like that. Grace was going to be okay. Time to raid Jane's tea cupboard. Tea always settled her frazzled nerves.

Rigsby wasn't really one for breaking rules. Not usually, anyway. But this was different. Lisbon may have said she should make a good recovery, but that wasn't good enough. He needed to see the red haired rookie for himself. His boss would understand, surely. So, once he cleared away the paper mountain he'd created and he was fairly certain no one was watching, he grabbed his jacket and made for the elevator.

"Rigsby!" Jane exclaimed. "You're going to see Van Pelt, aren't you?"

This was not the moment he wanted to see the cheerful smile of Jane. In fact, it would have been better by all accounts if he hadn't seen Jane at all. As far as everyone was concerned, it was his fault that Van Pelt was lying in a hospital bed. Rigsby just glowered at him.

"Oh come on, it's hardly a surprise. You can tell me."

The doors of the elevator finally closed as Rigsby clenched his fist. If one more word came out of that, that _bastard's_ mouth, Rigsby knew he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.

"She…"

Jane was sent reeling into the back wall. The fitted mirror even shook slightly. Checking his nose tentatively with deft fingers, he glanced at his reflection. Yeah, there was blood alright. He wasn't surprised that Rigsby had taken a swing for him, but it had still taken him off-guard. After all, the Agent was incredibly protective of Grace, to phrase it lightly, and everyone had been pinning the blame on him. Okay, he did wilfully lead her into a particularly dangerous situation, though nothing out of the ordinary for an Agent of the CBI. Really, it was the suspect who'd taken the actual shot at her and landed her in hospital.

The elevator door clicked open. Rigsby cleared his throat and strolled out as if nothing had happened, leaving Jane ever so slightly dumbfounded. He was in half a mind to go straight back upstairs and tell Lisbon what had just happened. Then again, he would probably just get thumped again. Actions and consequences and all that. Instead, he left the CBI building relatively quietly.

Today, he'd let Rigsby sneak in to see the woman he loved. Maybe tomorrow, he'd pop into the hospital to see how she was doing. He did, after all, have a good month with absolutely nothing to do. He wondered how quickly he could break Lisbon - and the rest of the team's resolve when it came to his suspension. With a grin, he left. Maybe first he'd have to find a medical kit to strap up his bloodied nose…

end


	18. Mine

**Title:** Mine  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane, Red John, Lisbon  
**Summary: **Jane has Red John cornered.  
**Notes: **Prompt: Mine  
**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist, however, is not mine.

**Mine**

I hold the gun to his head, his forehead to be precise. I know it'll be a quicker, cleaner death than the one I have dreamt of for him for all these years. But I'm pressed for time and at least it'll be done.

Red John is mine.

He is standing right in front of me. I can see the whites of his eyes. Despite the fact he can feel the cold metal of the barrel of the gun, he looks perfectly serene. Like he has accepted his fate. It's strange; I expected him to fight more than this.

My finger rests on the trigger. It's trembling; I can't help it. The movement is slight enough not to be of any risk of setting the weapon off, though. The moment Red John dies is my decision, now.

There's a screech of tyres from outside. An authoritative voice can be heard over the nervous whispers of the others. The walls to this shack are obviously paper-thin. I know the voice; I know all of them. How did they catch up with me so quickly? I suppose it's always been a terrible habit of mine underestimating them; underestimating _her_.

It's not the time to be thinking of that, though. It's now or never.

I don't even notice them creeping into the room. She walks over, relatively calmly and asks Red John to place his hands on his head. He complies. Before I know it, she's handcuffed Red John and Cho and Rigsby have lead him away.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

"You can lower the gun now, Patrick."

Her voice is soothing, calming. She never uses my given name and that's probably the exact reason I obeyed, rather than shooting mindlessly at the wall in frustration. The gun falls to my feet instead and she catches me as my knees give way. She may be small, but she's strong. Stronger than I'll ever be, at least.

"It's over."

I nod dumbly and Teresa Lisbon slowly, carefully, takes me outside.

Later, in the office and we should be celebrating closing the case. It's the big one; a career defining one for all of us. And somehow, we've all managed to get through it unscathed. Pride just doesn't feel right, not now. The bullpen, instead, is sombre.

Lisbon catches my gaze and nods slightly. Justice will be served. Her way, at least.


	19. Hurt

**Title:** Hurt  
**Spoilers: **Spoilers for Ep 1.20 Red Sauce  
**Prompt:** PhoenixWytch's prompts #066: Hurt

**Hurt**

The party had been Van Pelt's idea. She'd been surprised that Lisbon would be up for it at all - celebrating birthdays at the headquarters definitely blurred the lines between professionalism and personal issues. Jane watched in amusement as Lisbon happily agreed in to the idea; he was fairly certain she hadn't celebrated birthdays much as a child so that probably explained her enthusiasm for it. As she got older, it remained just the passing of another day.

The whole team were up for it, agreeing that their boss deserved to be spoiled every once in a while.

Van Pelt insisted on doing most the organising. It wasn't that she didn't trust Jane, Rigsby and Cho. Well, that was exactly the reason. They'd probably buy the paper plates and forget the cake, or something. For the week before she was constantly reminding them that the event was coming up; asking them if they had brought and wrapped the gift. She, out of all of them, was the most determined to ensure their celebration went off without a hitch.

When Jane appeared to forget the gift, it was hard to judge who was more disappointed, though they both tried not to show it much, Lisbon or Van Pelt.

Van Pelt was angry, she felt as if all her efforts had been in vain. But then again, if anyone was going to do something wrong, she should have known it would be Jane. She was about to give him a piece of her mind when they found out about another case. Jane would have to receive an earful later, she mused, as they got back to work. Well, if she had the confidence to tell the consultant off, at any rate.

Lisbon hadn't meant to get upset, really, she hadn't. Of course, she tried her best to cover it under a brusque, professional manner, especially once they received a case, but it just _got_ to her.

The years after her mother's death had been hard and it took her a long while to get back onto her feet. She always tried to make her brothers feel special on their birthdays, making sure they had a gift of some kind, staying up late to bake cakes. Ensuring that a card was signed 'love Dad' despite the fact he was barely conscious most of the time, never mind in possession of the ability to write.

When it came around to hers, no one seemed to notice the change of date, that the young girl was slowly becoming a woman. And it hurt, having to explain to the few friends she had that no, she wouldn't be having a party. That they didn't really have the money. And besides, she had a lot of work to be getting on with. When the simple fact was that she was more likely go home to find her Dad sleeping off alcohol in a pool of his own bile than setting a table for a birthday meal. There's no point asking for that pony you've always secretly wanted when your father can barely remember your _name_.

Rejection hurts like hell when you're a teenager. Lisbon just didn't expect it to still hurt when you're an adult.

So, when an actual pony appeared in her office, having nibbled on some rather important paperwork, Lisbon can't help but shed a tear. Whilst feeding the creature a few of Rigsby's carrot sticks, she also began to feel guilty for holding a grudge against Jane. The man could be a thorn in her side but he also knew exactly how to make a woman smile.


	20. Patience

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. Going to A&E over a 10 day migraine just to be told 'it's a migraine' isn't the best way to spend the day. (I did get given some nice painkillers though, so it's all good.) x tromana**

**Title:** Patience  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** Lisbon really didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'patience'.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine; I'm just playing in the Mentalist sandbox. Figuratively speaking, of course.  
**Prompt:** PhoenixWytch's prompts 092: Games  
**Notes: **In 1.11, you can see a chess board in Lisbon's office, and it got me thinking. Chess isn't my game, at all. I apologise to all the chess players in the world if I have misrepresented something.

**Patience**

He'd given it to her as a joke. Lisbon really didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'patience'. She never seemed to like waiting for a plan to unfold, her hand constantly twitched to the walkie-talkie, desperate to be able to give out orders, or at the very least, check on the situation. Waiting suited Jane a hell of a lot more. He'd half expected the chess board to be thrown at him in disgust when he was dozing on the couch. Certainly not that she'd set it up (admittedly, with a few pieces in the wrong position) in her office.

Chess was much more Jane's game. There was a finesse about the game. It required an eagle eye, making sure you can take into account all the possible future outcomes and planning for them. And most importantly in his opinion, watching the game unfold, preferably in your favour. Chess wasn't something to be rushed; you had to think about each and every move. It was a game to be _savoured_.

When she left him alone for five minutes, rather than his usual snooping, he took the opportunity to correct her and make his first move. To be honest, he knew he'd be surprised if she even noticed that one piece had been moved. If they weren't working on a case, for some reason, she always seemed inundated with paperwork.

The first few games, he beat her with ease. Mate in twelve, mate in fifteen, mate in eleven. He'd watch from the security of the bullpen as she discovered her King flicked over yet again, observing the rigid determination written across her face as she set up the pieces and started another game.

But come the fifteenth game, she seemed to have learned a few tricks. Learned when to hold back, what pieces to sacrifice, how to elude certain attacks. As opposed to lasting just a couple of days, this game lasted just over a week. Jane sauntered into her office. He was bored, the rest of the team weren't up for being teased. They just wanted to get on with their work. Good for them. She glanced up from the form she was in the middle of filling in, and smirked at him.

He strolled over to their chessboard. She'd obviously taken relish in her final move.

Checkmate.


	21. Stealing

**Title:** Stealing  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Stealing**

He's come to the conclusion that he is stealing from her.

That's what those furtive glances, those lingering looks at her back whilst she's berating someone, calming them down or just simply doing her job are. Stealing. He's taking something that isn't his. She's off-limits, mainly due to his own rigorous rules (and some of her own, too). But that doesn't change the fact that she will never, ever be his.

She doesn't notice, or at least, he doesn't think she does. Teresa Lisbon might be a good Agent, but she's not blessed (cursed?) with heightened powers of observation.

What she also doesn't know is that she is stealing from him, too. She may not be tall (she is barely 5'4"), with long, blonde locks (short, dark hair, never past her shoulders) or the mother of his child (she's his _boss_ for crying out loud) but there's just something about her. Lisbon is still stealing emotions from him that she has absolutely no right to do so.

Like the time his pulse raced just that little bit faster because Kristina Frye demanded they hold hands. (He knew the deal with séances, why the hell did he have to stand next to her?) Or, the smile that erupts across his face every time he made her blush. (That occurred surprisingly often. Embarrassment was one of the emotions she particularly struggled at hiding.) And the way his heart just breaks every time she looks at him with disappointment just dripping from those honest eyes. (Maybe he should stop bending the rules quite so often…) She is even beginning to invade his scant dreams. (Can't quite blame her for that one.)They are emotions he singled out for his wife a long, long while ago. Yet, the tug in his heart is saying otherwise.

Every night when he sleeps in the CBI, he's absorbed in the smell of stale coffee, yesterday's pizza and just that faintest whiff of cinnamon soap.

The spicy sweetness of the soap is enough to drive Patrick Jane to tears.


	22. Food For Thought

**Title:** Food For Thought  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Bruno Heller is the lucky guy who owns them.  
**Notes: **Written for Ebony10 who requested some fluff and Penelope Louise who has kindly gone back and reviewed every single chapter. PhoenixWytch's prompts 118: cake

**Food For Thought**

It never took him long to wake up from his snatches of sleep. Bleary eyed, he glanced around the bullpen. Obviously the cleaners had been in and tidied around him. He appreciated it; the fact that they treated him like a piece of the furniture now and knew not to disturb him on the rare occasions when he actually slept rather than simply pretended. The main lights were dimmed and the parquet floor shining, yet it was still brighter than it usually would be on a dark Thursday evening.

Ah. That'd be why. He couldn't but let a grin erupt across his face. Jane wasn't surprised to see she was still in. Teresa Lisbon, after all, was the senior agent and often worked longer hours than the others just to keep on top of her paperwork. A slave to her work, that one was. He didn't have to look to know it was late, even for her to still be there. He opened the door to her office without knocking. Jane didn't believe in personal boundaries, much to Lisbon's chagrin and delighted in her reaction as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jane! I thought you were still sleeping."

"Meh, sleep's overrated," he replied. "I thought you'd be home by now."

She took a few seconds to stare pointedly at him before grabbing a piece of cake that she had on a plate beside her. Lisbon luxuriated in the fluffy sponge and chewed it thoughtfully. Jane watched her every move; a few months ago, that would have made her incredibly uncomfortable, but having now grown used to Jane's quirks, it doesn't bother her so much. After she had placed the scrap of a snack back down, Jane snatched the plate back from her.

"Lisbon, have you eaten dinner?"

"No. Have you?"

"No," he replied. "We should do something about that."

Jane grabbed her by the wrist in attempt to pull her to her feet, yet she held firm onto the edge of the desk. The glint of steel flashed in her eyes as it typically did whenever they disagreed about something.

"Come on. Paperwork can wait. Please?"

"I wouldn't have to be doing said paperwork if you didn't break the rules quite so often," she growled.

"Lisbon, you hurt me." Jane pulled a face and let go of her wrist. Lisbon bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at him. "My methods may not be quite as orthodox as yours but we get results. Right? Right?"

"I'll grant you that, but I don't get thumped as often as you do."

"You get shot at more."

"I'd say it's a close run race on that front."

"Really?"

Lisbon nodded, smirking.

"I'm not so sure. However, if you let me take you out to dinner, I might just be persuaded otherwise."

"Jane…"

"Please. You'll waste away otherwise, woman. And there's not much of you to start off with."

"I had cake."

"Not good enough."

She slammed her hands on her desk and stood up. The hour of the day, too much paperwork and not enough food was beginning to wear her resolve thin. After all, she could always come in even earlier in the morning to make sure she adhered to Minelli's rather strict deadline for paperwork on cases they had recently closed.

"Fine."

Jane grinned triumphantly and grabbed her by the hand again. She barely had time to grab her cell phone and bag before he had dragged her out of her office. Jane really was more like a hyperactive child at times. But it was sweet, really. He didn't have to be quite so concerned about co-workers as he was. At least it gave him something to think about which doesn't revolve around Red John, vengeance and blood thirst, though…

***

They had a Chinese takeout, which Jane insisted upon paying for. Lisbon didn't much fancy the idea of a restaurant. She'd been working for far too long that day to want to be somewhere so noisy. Jane carried their meal in the supplied plastic bag and they soon found a park bench to nestle themselves on. Lisbon picked at her chow mein as Jane watched her every move. He wasn't that hungry and watching the way she wrestled with the noodles with her chopsticks was far more entertaining than eating himself.

"Are you actually going to eat, or just watch me?"

"Watching you sounds good."

Lisbon shrugged and soon finished her meal. Even after the rubbish had been disposed of, they remained sitting on the bench, not talking, just stargazing. Jane noticed as she shivered slightly and took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her small form. Looking at the stars, he briefly wondered if Van Pelt's beliefs really did have any grounding. And if they did, what would his wife think? He could only hope that she would approve of the feisty little lady he had an arm wrapped around now.

end

**A/N: Fluffy enough? Let me know.**


	23. Bad Day

**Title:** Bad Day  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Van Pelt  
**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine.

**Bad Day**

Van Pelt slammed the front door a little too roughly in frustration, and her housemate came running, toothbrush in hand, slightly concerned.

"Bad day at the office, Grace?"

She an arched an eyebrow, dumped her bag and files in the hallway and stalked through to the kitchen. She was after something sweet, though, not chocolate or ice cream. After working at the CBI for a good seven months, both of those treats felt a little too much like something to celebrate closing a case, not something that could be devoured just because she was thoroughly pissed off.

"Something like that," she growled as she rifled through the refrigerator.

"Your boss, or that Jane bloke?"

"Both."

"Again?"

"Yup."

Ah. A cherry yoghurt. That'd fit the bill. After collecting a teaspoon from the cutlery drawer, she flopped at the breakfast bar. Having disposed of her toothbrush, Alicia Stewart, Van Pelt's best friend, confidant, housemate, shoulder to cry on and all-round good egg joined her. She stared at Van Pelt despairingly. She knew her friend loved her job, even if she did have to do all the boring jobs because no one else could be bothered to. Alicia had also heard her enthuse many times about everyone she worked with; it was just sometimes they grated with her.

"What happened?"

"One car. Three hours. With Jane and Lisbon."

She was still bitter that Rigsby had been sent elsewhere with Cho. Being the good rookie, she hadn't breathed a word, of course. The job meant too much to her. The others may feel settled enough to occasionally take a stand against Lisbon, but Van Pelt knew she still wouldn't for quite some time.

"Ah." Alicia had heard enough about Jane and Lisbon to know this was A Bad Thing. With capital letters.

"It's a wonder she isn't pulling her hair out," Van Pelt added. "Heck, it's a wonder I'm not pulling mine out, too."

Van Pelt finished her yoghurt, licked the spoon clean and disposed of the rubbish before continuing.

"I love them, Al, really I do. They've both taught me so much, but really, if there's a fight to pick, they'll go for it. Some days you just wish they'd shut up for five minutes. Or just hook up. It's obvious they like each other and they're just too proud to admit it," Van Pelt sighed heavily. She knew she was being hypocritical, but didn't really care. She pulled the elastic band and shook her head, allowing her red hair to flutter down her back before observing her friend. "How's the piece your working on coming along?"

"Oh, alright," Alicia replied dismissively. "Never mind your boss and Jane, now. How's Wayne?"

"Oh don't start."

end


	24. Accident

**Rating:** T/M  
**Summary:** Jane and Lisbon from a suspect's point of view  
**Notes:** A few swear words and sexual references. Written for the jello-forever August '09 challenge: Theme: Mistakes

**Accidents**

It was just a mistake. A stupid mistake, not that these idiots will believe me. Asian bloke just dumped me in the interrogation room and told me to wait for his boss. Didn't even give me a chance to try and explain myself to him. Jackass.

I guess it's 'cause they're coppers. Special ones. The kind that solve the most gruesome of murders without even battin' an eyelid. Not that I'm a murderer. Like I said, it was a mistake. An accident.

A prissy dark haired lady walks in, quickly followed by a bloke who just knows he's a pretty boy. Looks pretty damn smug, too. Like he's the one who's 'solved' the case. Well, you ain't pinnin' this one on me that easily, sunshine. It doesn't matter just how soulful those baby blues of yours are. Besides, you're _so_ not my type.

What happened was this. I met 'im at a club. Big bloke, burly. I like 'em that way. We had a few drinks. Well, maybe a few too many and I took 'im to a hotel. Never home, see. Dunno if he's a jackass or not yet. Guess I'll never know, now. Anyway. I took 'im there for, y'know. Oh, do I really have to spell it out? Fine. We went there for sex. He thought I was hot, and the feeling was entirely mutual. We were climbin' upstairs to our room. I was undressin' him and just couldn't wait to get those pants off 'im. And he tripped. Broke his neck in the fall. And I ran. Well? Wouldn't you? You think you're about to have mind-blowin' sex and then suddenly your date is dead at the bottom of the staircase. Not a good thing.

Though, these morons won't believe that, will they? There has to be a motive and a secret within another secret and all that crap. I can try and explain myself and all that but she'll just carry on lookin' at me stonily and he'll make a joke outta it. It's hard to tell who is the one in charge outta these two. I thought it was Mr. Baby Blues at first, but the way she just hisses his name through clenched teeth says otherwise. Though he does seem to undermine her. Whatever, it's probably just their way. Windin' each other up like that prob'ly leads to makin' mad passionate love at night for them. They definitely seem like they're at it like rabbits, anyway.

Oh, hell, why am I even botherin' to psychoanalyse coppers when I'm meant to be provin' my innocence?

It was a mistake, I tell you. A silly, stupid mistake. And because of it, I'm prob'ly gonna rot in jail.

end


	25. Blocked Memories

**Rating: **T  
**Summary: **Another interpretation of Van Pelt's repressed memories…  
**Characters: **Van Pelt

**Blocked Memories**

She had been so proud when she had received that first aid certificate. Her father had taken her into his arms, kissed her on the forehead and announced how proud he was that 'his little country girl was going somewhere'. Grace's mother naturally shed a few tears, after all she had been the youngest on the course and had passed with flying colours. They had gone out for a slap up meal and returned late in the evening, all in thoroughly good moods.

Grace's brother hadn't bothered to join them, though. He never did; he had drinks, drugs and women to keep him occupied these days. She hadn't minded too much either because she had enjoyed having the attentions of both her parents to herself. Anyway, if he had been there, it would have probably descended into arguments and chaos. Their parents naturally didn't approve of their eldest child's lifestyle but found it virtually impossible to keep him under control.

Having had a day so good, she hadn't expected to wake in the middle of the night to find her brother collapsed in the hallway, not breathing. It was the second time he'd overdosed, and the first time he had been so lucky to survive. The whole family had hoped that he had learned his lesson, though it was obvious that he hadn't. Attempting not to panic, she had tried putting her new training into practice, though it didn't do much good. Whilst waiting for the paramedics to arrive, she had fought desperately, trying to get him breathing again and trying to find any sign of a pulse.

They'd pronounced him dead at the scene.

Though she had been told there was absolutely nothing she could do, she still blamed herself. Of course she did, she had failed her brother as a younger sibling. She had been the one to find him, she was the one with the training and she was the one who couldn't help him however hard she tried. Grace soon took to lying to people. She hadn't been the one to find his body lying prone at the bottom of the staircase, her mother had. She only found out when her father tiptoed into her bedroom at the crack of dawn with tear filled eyes. The more she told other people that, the more she almost came to believe it herself. Eventually, there was a time when no one asked anymore, no one cared.

Grace had always known that she wanted to work in the emergency services because she had a vocation to help people. It was the morning after his funeral that she decided that once was old enough, she would apply for the police force. She may not have been able to save her brother's life, but she was willing to try and bring about justice for him by catching the criminals who sold him the drugs in the first place.


	26. Arm's Length

**Rating: **T  
**Summary: **Lisbon was like the flame and he couldn't help but be drawn to her.  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon

**Arm's Length**

There had been another car bomb (that was two too many of late, for Jane's liking) and a little girl had wandered a little too close. Typically, Lisbon had been the one straight into the fray, whisking the girl into safety, but had been showered by shards of glass herself. The paramedics did a marvellous job, treating the girl for shock but they hadn't counted on a little agent with a fiery temper being quite so stubborn. She only agreed to go with them to the hospital when Rigsby reasonably pointed out that if even one piece of glass was left inside her body, it could be enough to kill her. And a blocked artery due to sheer block-headedness wouldn't be a pleasant way to go, all things considered.

Jane had insisted upon travelling with her to the hospital. It amused him somewhat as she glowered at the doctors carefully removing the glass from her back. Even whilst drugged up, she managed to allow her tempers to flare to the extent that it scared the other professionals. Of course, it wasn't just the doctors she snapped at; she wasn't much impressed with Jane being there either. But she had accompanied him when he had been temporarily blinded (and not to mention on other occasions), so it was only fair that he repaid the compliment.

The sun was setting by the time her treatment had finished and much to Lisbon's chagrin, they insisted on keeping her in for 'observation' overnight. Jane knew she wouldn't be best pleased about the fact that he had stayed to watch her sleep off the medication, to see her in such a vulnerable state. The fires he knew she was capable of still burned as she slept, but they were merely embers waiting to reignite come morning.

Outside, the sky was now an inky blackness, broken up by the bright sparks that were stars. He shuffled his chair closer to her bed; somehow feeling safer and more secure by her side. He was like a moth, a creature of darkness. Though nightfall was when they awoke in their millions, moths were still terribly fragile creatures and needed a lot of luck to survive. And safety came in numbers. Lisbon, however, was like the flame. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, however hard he tried to keep her at arm's length. She flickered so brightly and fiercely, that it was unnerving to see her in such a fragile state, even if it was only for a day. He knew that one day, like everyone, her flame would be extinguished. And it terrified him that 'one day' could quite easily be translated into 'soon', especially given her career path.

Jane knew he was a danger to himself as well as her. And that was why he had to remain at arm's length from her, however much it hurt the both of them.

end


	27. Secret Smiles

**A/N: **Eek. Been a while since I last wrote something for Scarlet Shorts. I apologise. Short and not-sweet. Sorry. x tromana

**Rating: **T  
**Summary: **Jane's obviously not suffering enough.  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon, Red John

**Warnings: **Character death

**Secret Smiles**

Dear Mr. Jane,

The death of the lovely Ms. Lisbon isn't entirely your fault; the grief you are obviously suffering from now is just, shall we say, an added bonus?

You see, dear Teresa was becoming a thorn in my side. One too many time she had come too close to unravelling my secrets and we cannot have that. But that is hardly surprising, she had been chasing my tail like a pretty little bloodhound for a very long time. Even longer than you. But then again that was her job, wasn't it? And she was so very good at that. A little bit of martyrdom there. Rather like you in that sense, Mr. Jane.

But then again, I'm surprised that you let yourself get so attached to another. We both know why what happened to your wife and child had to happen, and I honestly had hoped that you had learned your lesson. Obviously I was wrong, and here we are. I didn't much approve of you cheating on your poor deceased wife with those furtive glances and secret smiles with Ms. Lisbon here. There is a reason adultery is frowned upon.

Until the next time

-insert Red John smiley here-


	28. Danger

**Rating: **K+  
**Summary: **Jane's first day out on the field  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon

**Danger**

Jane had quickly decided that he could get used to fieldwork. It was stimulating, Lisbon was surprisingly good company, even with her annoying habit of glancing at him once ever half a minute or so and there was far more to do than when they were cooped up in the CBI headquarters. This was more akin to what he had signed up to do. Jane knew he would be lying if he said that his first priority was anything other than catching Red John, but some things just went without saying. Seeing the agents in action had been intriguing, too. Their whole personalities seemed to shift somewhat while out of the office. Lisbon, more determined to assert herself, Rigsby was somehow more relaxed and obviously enjoying his work and Cho, more willing to be expressive.

They heard a single gunshot and like a flash, Lisbon ran off in the direction that it was fired. Not knowing quite what else to do, Jane chased after her. He was puffing and wheezing at the unexpected exertion he was forcing his body to endure. Damn, he hadn't realised quite how much he'd let himself go in recent years. And to think he'd always prided himself with being physically fit. Lisbon was already a significant distance ahead of him and Jane wasn't quite sure how that had happened. Quietly, he cursed himself for expecting her to be slow based on her height. It was an unfair assumption, especially as she was a cop, too.

She stopped at the street corner, frowning as Jane caught up with her.

"Damn it," she cursed.

"Why are we running _towards_ gunfire anyway?" Jane asked, breathlessly.

Lisbon frowned. "Because someone fired a gun."

"Exactly."

A second shot and she was off again.

"It's my duty, Jane," she called back at him. "You can always wait behind, if you like."

When he did eventually catch up with her, she had already handcuffed a teen and was wrestling him in the general direction of the SUV. Jane grimaced as she beamed brightly at him. The boy looked rather unimpressed at the fact he'd been taken down by a woman, and Jane couldn't help but smirk. Seemed someone else had underestimated _his_ Lisbon today. It had turned out that he was also the person they had been tailing for the case that they had been working on. That was all far enough, she was doing her job and all that. What annoyed him was the fact that Lisbon looked like she had been for a stroll in the park and he had a stitch.

Damn her.

end


	29. Coffee Tables

**Rating: **T  
**Summary: **Jane's irritating Lisbon. Like usual.  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon  
**Prompts: **from hoshinekoyasha: coffee tables, from Penelope Louise: pain, PhoenixWytch's prompts: 376: Stop enjoying this, Jane

(I'm obviously seeing how many prompts I can use in the shortest space. Hooray.)

**Coffee Tables**

"Nice place you have here, Lisbon," Jane stated. "A bit messier than I had expected, but nice. Homely."

"Stop enjoying this, Jane," she growled in response.

"Why?"

Lisbon ignored his question and stalked off to get changed. Jane really had some nerve; it was one thing walking into her office but another entirely forcing his way into her apartment without invitation. In fact, he hadn't even forced his way in, he'd picked the lock while she was in the shower and greeted her brightly as she had wandered through to the kitchen only wearing her dressing gown. Horrified, she had flushed a bright red and somehow, accidentally pushed him so he tripped over coffee table. And still, he managed to make the quick, witty remarks as he scrambled to his feet, completely untroubled by his fall. Anyone else would have mentioned their bruised pride, at the very least.

Once she was more suitable clothed for visitors and calmed down slightly at her sudden invasion of privacy, she made her way back through to the lounge. Jane was staring with interest at one of the few photographs she had up, from the wedding of one of her brothers. This was one of the many reasons she had tried to keep him from her apartment for as long as possible. She knew he would psychoanalyse her through her belongings. As she observed him, Lisbon made a mental note to get some more effective locks.

"Your family?" he asked and she nodded. "Not a very recent photo, though. Your hair was a lot longer."

"It was impractical," she shrugged. "Do you want a drink?"

"Nah. Don't want to get your coffee table involved in any more wars today."

"That was your fault. You surprised me," she replied, indignant. "Breaking into my property like that. That's an offence, you know."

"Arrest me, then."

"I'm off duty and you're a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, it does hurt actually," Jane remarked. "You could kiss it better, you know."

"Screw you."

"Well, you can if you really want to."

"Jane!"

end

**A/N:** ...and I used the phrase 'pain in the ass'. I have a personal vendetta against that phrase, dammit.


	30. Compartmentalisation

**A/N:** I am going to get this working. Fifth time lucky, I think it is now? I'm really, really sorry for all the hassle this update is causing.

30 chapters and I haven't thanked anyone for a while! Shocking. Thanks go to: JisbonyGoodness36, PhoenixWytch, mwalter1, lil smiles, x-gemarrrr, JocelynMcC, Penelope Louise, SpaceAnJL, Frogster, Ebony10, JelloFanatic123, sprntrl grl, yasminbanu786, EastAngels2009, Madaboutthementalist, lets just call me., kathiann, Habeous Corpus, WildDaisies10, Steph.107., Divinia Serit, Cora Clavia, dizzy - in - the - izzy (in all her guises), 4nim3BBfr34k, lalez, and khalek-aeryn for the reviews, prompting and generally being awesome. I can't say often enough how much it means to me, seriously.

x tromana

**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** Distraction therapy gone wrong  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Prompts:** lalez challenged me to use four prompts in one, the prompts being: paper clip, shattered glass, classic music and postcard.

**Compartmentalisation**

Lisbon sighed as she used the paperclip to attach the postcard to the case file. The idea of being stalked unnerved her. The fact that someone could be so obsessed with someone that they were always hiding in the shadows, rummaging through your garbage… just there. Still, at least they managed to close the case, even if she couldn't get it off her mind. It was worrisome, usually she was good at compartmentalisation of memories, she prided herself on it. It was what made her excel at her job.

As the door clicked open, she didn't sigh, roll her eyes nor pick up something ready to throw at Patrick Jane. She had long since grown used to the regular invasion of privacy which came with the territory. Instead, she just glanced up and allowed him a small, crooked half-smile before continuing with her work. And as she expected, he pulled up the chair opposite her and sat, waiting for her to get fed up with being stared at and ask him what he wanted with her. Eventually, with the sigh he had been waiting for, she did so.

"We're going to a bar tonight," he muttered. "That is Rigsby, Van Pelt, Cho and I. The case has got to them too."

She nodded in response and picked up her biro again. She knew it was his way of inviting her along, but she wanted to wait for the actual words out of principle.

"Come with us?"

There they were. Lisbon looked him in the eyes and nodded for a second time. He broke out into a smile and left shortly after. That was all she had needed.

***

Jane had picked her up from her apartment, as he often did, and drove her to the bar they had chosen. Classical music strained through tinny speakers as they took to the barstools and waited to be served. The others hadn't arrived yet, but Jane appeared unconcerned. Lisbon eyed him warily as he ordered for them and he simply beamed in response.

"Jane, are the others actually coming?"

"Good grief woman, doesn't being so suspicious all the time get exhausting?"

"No."

"No, they're not."

"See, I had a reason to be suspicious. Why not?"

Jane didn't have time to answer. The shattering of a glass window behind them meant that she was up like a shot. Being the hero of the day because of an attempted theft wasn't Jane's idea of suitable distraction therapy for Lisbon, but he decided that he would take what he could get. He rushed up as she had the suspect pinned to the floor as the local LEOs came blundering in. The first recognised her immediately and broke out into a small smile as he cuffed the man. She smiled as she agreed to give evidence in the morning; it was getting late and Jane was hovering behind her.

"This isn't quite what I had planned," Jane whispered tentatively.

"I'm not surprised."

"The idea was to distract you from the latest case, not have you working off duty."

She laughed and Jane found himself laughing too. He quickly realised that it was the first time he had actually heard her do so and he felt himself warm pleasurably, deciding that he was going to have to hear it more often, now.

"Do you ever stop working?"

"No."

"You need help, Lisbon," Jane spluttered. "Come on, let's finish our drinks, at least."

end


	31. Past and Present

**Title:** Past and Present  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Van Pelt  
**Notes:** Future/AU fic. Written for the LJ **dailyfics** challenge. Day 3. Prompt: chain

**Past and Present**

She hates that damn wedding band.

It's irrational, but it is a symbol of his past life, past love. One that can only threaten them in the form of memories. It means that she hates a ghost and she knows it. But really, she cannot be certain that he can love two women at once, he hasn't got two hearts after all. That would be akin to something out of science fiction and fantasy. But he does say that he loves her, frequently. And it's her who he travels to work with, her apartment that he moved into just six months ago (really, it had always been too big for just the one person) and her name he cries out when they make love. Patrick doesn't seem to think of the past any more, but that doesn't stop Teresa from having those little doubtful thoughts nagging away at the back of her mind. Like they always have done and always will.

Whenever his fingers entwine around hers, she has always become horribly aware of the cool metal band around his ring finger. It presses against her skin, almost like it is digging in and burning her. Like it wants to hurt her. Which it can't, because regardless of what it symbolises, it is still merely an inanimate object. When he pulls away at work to take refuge on his couch, she can still feel it catch on her skin, like it is attempting to leave its mark and make sure she is still thinking, worrying about it as she checks her e-mails in her private office. They have a new case and she still can't get a small piece of metal off of her mind.

He asks her at the scene of a crime, just states it so matter-of-factly that he might as well have been asking if she was thirsty. A body has been hacked to pieces and they are discovering it bit by bit, spread all over Los Angeles. While nobody can deny that Patrick is a romantic man, they rarely have time for romance itself. They have just slipped into each other's lives, inexplicably, unexpectedly and just feel comfortable now. The question takes her by surprise; it is Grace Van Pelt who reacts first, raising her hands to her mouth, accompanied with a gentle gasp, followed by a breathy 'oh my God'. Lisbon (for she can't be Teresa at work, she has to keep some semblance of control and professional boundary, even if she is dating a co-worker) looks at him quizzically. She never expected him to ask the question and had accepted that she wouldn't ever be his wife a long time ago.

She can't give him an answer, not straight away. The question was so unexpected and it didn't help that she just wasn't in the right frame of mind to formulate an answer. She has a case to be thinking about and justice for a murdered man, the idea of developments in her personal life just don't come into it yet. Lisbon feels terribly guilty; not only does Jane look broken hearted, but Van Pelt does too. In a second, the younger woman had probably already started thinking about engagement parties and plans to drag her boss (and friend) out shopping for wedding dresses.

Later, Patrick enjoys the apologetic kisses and her hands running over his body, over now-familiar territory. Her willingness to share gentle touches is a far cry from what it was when he first met her, even from when they first started dating. The first time they shared a simple hug, she had been so bemused that he found it amusing. Teresa has an answer now, rather than simply blinking owlishly and stalking off and he has a ring. Carefully, he slips it onto her finger, it's just the right fit and suits her perfectly, but his heart still skips a beat. Would his first wife truly mind the fact that he was moving on (that he was replacing her?) now that Red John was firmly behind bars?

As his fingers dance around hers and they resume kissing, she notices that for the first time since she has known him, that the horrible piece of gold is gone. She quickly finds out that the first wedding band is on a chain now. She doesn't ask him to stop wearing it and she won't. Patrick is taking baby steps; at least the ring is out of sight now and has stopped visually taunting her. He has already decided that he doesn't need to wear the chain all the time now and there are times when he _definitely_ won't be wearing it.

Maybe when a wedding band, one that matches one on his finger, joins her engagement ring, he will have the desire and the confidence, to leave it in the drawer beside the bed for good.

end


	32. Gossip

******SPOILERS FOR 2.01 REDEMPTION**

**A/N:** I was going to write something different for today's **dailyfics** prompt, but I saw the ep and the plot bunnies wanted to write this little thing instead. And what can I say? I'm a slave to them. There's not much and it could be longer... but I just don't feel that inspired today. Argh. Hate feeling like this.

**Title:** Gossip  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Team  
**Notes: Episode tag to 2.01: Redemption** Written for the LJ **dailyfics** challenge. Day 5. Prompt: Game

**Gossip**

"….and if you don't stop with your stupid mind tricks…."

"…what your problem is…"

"…discussed this earlier…"

Rigsby glanced at Cho who was looking particularly sorry for himself at his desk. Jane's 'invisible net' tactic may have worked and Rhonda Jaffe had been caught, but that wasn't enough to cool Lisbon's temper. Despite the fact that she and Jane were holed up in her office, snatches of dialogue travelled through to the bullpen. She had been in a particularly foul mood since the loss of the Red John case. Though she had emphatically stated that she agreed with Minelli's decision, it obviously still irritated her. And when the boss was annoyed, the rest of the team were easily flustered too, especially Van Pelt.

"I wouldn't want to be in there with her right now," Rigsby mused.

"Think yourself lucky, I just came out of there."

"I wonder why she's in such a foul mood?" Van Pelt questioned. "Do you think it's because Jane tried to quit?"

"Oh come on, that was obvious it was just Jane playing his games on her," Rigsby answered. "I mean us."

"Wasn't to me," Cho retorted.

"You really thought he was leaving?"

"Without Red John, what else does he need us for?"

"He needs Lisbon."

"He-"

"Shh, he's coming back," Van Pelt muttered.

The door to Lisbon's office swung open and Jane strolled out nonchalantly, as if he had merely been discussing what to order in celebration of closing the case with her. He started heading towards the couch before changing his mind and perching on Van Pelt's desk. Grinning at her, he grabbed one of her wrists and looked into her eyes.

"What were you all talking about when I was with Lisbon, Van Pelt?"

"Jane," Lisbon barked and everyone jumped. No one had expected her to follow him out of her office. "Stop bothering Van Pelt and do something constructive for a change."

Jane scowled as Cho stood to head out of the bullpen, to go and fetch himself a cup of tea. Quickly, he leaned down to whisper a word in Van Pelt's ear.

"He's not going to drop it, you know."

She nodded. At least Lisbon had given her a temporary reprieve.

end


	33. Open Book

**A/N: **Agh. Still suffering from a mild writer's block. In the middle of my dailyfics challenge too. This is not good. This was like drawing blood from a stone. :-(

Quick shout out to Frogster, who is celebrating their birthday today. Happy Birthday!

x tromana

**Title:** Open Book  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Notes: **Written for the LJ **dailyfics** challenge. Day 6. Prompt: Book

**Open Book**

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Jane whispered into her ear. "You really are like an open book, woman. Was he really that creepy?"

A frown began to knit its way across her pretty features and Jane slowly began to realise just how much that phrase insulted her. He didn't mean it that way; he appreciated her honesty, the fact that Lisbon didn't feel the need to hide a secret within a secret within yet another secret. It was refreshing to the man who feels that his whole life is one giant lie and grounded him somewhat. Jane hated it when she looked at him with that little, hurt expression of hers, the one where she obviously felt like she had been wounded.

"I am not…" she started, before shaking her head and walking away. "You know what? I don't care what you think."

Truth of the matter was, that they both knew she did. And that was the crux of the problem. Her frown tightened and Jane was fairly certain that it was going to be a permanent feature for the rest of the day. Jane winced as her office door slammed firmly shut but that didn't stop him opening it and following her in. She was already sitting at her desk, staring angrily at her computer screen, typing furiously. Lisbon didn't even bother to glance up when Jane walked in; she was used to his invasions of privacy. Perhaps too used to it. Quickly, she disregarded the thought. After all, she doubted she could ever teach him the meaning of the word 'boundaries'.

"Lisbon, I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't mean to what, Jane?" she snapped while pinching the bridge of her nose to try and ward off the oncoming headache. "You know what? Just forget it."

"But…"

"I said forget it," she repeated. "Now, unlike some people, I have work to do. So unless you can think of something useful to say, I suggest you leave."

Jane sighed and shuffled out. Lisbon's stubborn streak had obviously stuck in so there was no way she would listen to any apology he could come out with. Come morning, she would forgive him, she always did, but that didn't mean he couldn't help matters along. The team didn't question him as he darted around the bullpen and briefly left the headquarters altogether. Nor did they bother asking about the sly smile that traced across his lips when he was done and back lying on his couch, as if he had been up to nothing at all. When Lisbon left the headquarters that night, she felt significantly calmer than she had during the day. It had helped that Jane had been sensible for a change and avoided her since their disagreement. She wasn't really angry with him, not anymore anyway.

Jane watched from the window as Lisbon approached her car. He smiled to himself as he saw her whole body language loosen and relax. Obviously, she was happy. At least he was still useful for something. And yes, she definitely was like an open book if he could tell how she was feeling from this far away.

end


	34. Synchronicity

**A/N: **Wow, long time since I wrote anything short enough to go in this. Heh. Obviously I like words too much these days.

Thanks to: SpaceAnJL, Habeous Corpus, mwalter1, khalek-aeryn, lalez, WildDaisies10, Penelope Louise, Divinia Serit, JelloFanatic123, Frogster, dizzy - in - the - izzy, PhoenixWytch, Ebony10, sprntrl grl, Heavensdarkrosechild, kathiann and Viktorija for reviewing the most recent four chapters.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Synchronicity  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Cho/Lisbon [friendship]  
**Disclaimer: **Don't even bother asking. It's a fun sandpit to play in though.  
**Summary:** It's easier cooking for two, far more sociable and cheaper, too.  
**Notes:** Written for Divinia Serit in the LiveJournal prompt meme. Prompt: cooking

**Synchronicity**

Apart from the clatter of pots, pans and kitchen utensils, the room is virtually silent.

They do this often. Cook for one another, that is. It's easier cooking for two, far more sociable and cheaper too, so it just makes sense. However little is said, both of them enjoy the company and know the other appreciates it too. They work like a machine now, in perfect synchrony, but neither of them quite know how they fell into this little routine. It feels like they've been doing this since they first met and they have - almost. Lisbon and Cho both joined the CBI within a month of one another and it was only natural that two lonely rookies, albeit on different teams with schedules that occasionally clashed, joined forces. The two of them against the rest of the world, as it were. Now, they're just happy that they have risen through the ranks and that they're working together now. It makes things far easier.

Lisbon nudges Cho gently in the side and automatically knowing what she wants, he places down the knife he's been using to chop up salad and hands her a wooden spoon. She smiles in gratitude and his lips curl up slightly in response. Though Cho isn't exactly famed for wearing his heart on his sleeve, it's the first time he's smiled today and she finds it somewhat disconcerting.

That means that something is wrong with either his girlfriend or his mother. Outside of the team, they're the only two people who Cho is loyal to a fault to. She'd know if it was somebody else on the team in trouble because 'Mother' Teresa always knows.

When the pots and pans are bubbling happily, they take to her dining room table, with a glass of orange juice for her, tap water for him. Lisbon gives him one of those penetrating gazes and he knows that it's time to tell all. After all, they understand each other better than they probably understand themselves. Cho can't help but smile when she gently covers his hand with her own, reminding him that he isn't alone. They can fight his problems together, as they always do.

When a piping hot risotto is on the table, with plenty of cheese, he's beginning to feel better already and he knows she does too. He doesn't like causing his boss undue stress, but the reminder that he always has someone to turn to has helped significantly. Cho just hopes that Lisbon knows that he is always ready to pay back the compliment, too. She's just relieved that she can stop worrying and start planning how to help one of her agents, and more importantly, her friend.

end


	35. think of something else

**A/N: **So I may well get back into writing things for this collection again. Mainly because a fic meme has started on the livejournal community, mentalistprompt. We'd love more people to join in - and you don't have to be a member to do so.

Okay enough shameless promotion. Thank you to: lisbon69, yaba, Divinia Serit, WildDaisies10, khalek-aeryn, Viktorija and Penelope Louise for reviewing Synchronicity, it's much appreciated. Especially so to lisbon69 who signed in anonymously.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** think of something else  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Notes:** written for the new mentalistprompt fic meme

**think of something else**

One.

Two.

Her heart thrummed against her ribcage painfully, each beat catching against solid vertebrae.

Solid, stubborn.

Sore.

Three.

Four.

Thoughts clawed at the corner of her mind: _'You've failed your job. How could you think you could _ever_ do this?'_

Vicious, evil.

Cruel.

Five.

Six.

Her breathing was growing a little labored, each lungful of air stabbing at her sides.

Icy, persistent.

For now.

Seven.

Eight.

Glancing to her side briefly, shuddering at the sight of the gaping wound near her abdomen.

Bleeding, congealing.

Pain.

Nine.

Ten.

"You scared?"

He took her shaking hand, enveloped it in a welcome warmth.

"Me too."

And then, it was over.

Just as easily as it begun.

_And your slow shaking fingertips  
Show that you're scared like me  
_- Vulnerable, Secondhand Serenade


	36. The Butterfly Effect

**A/N:** I had to force myself to keep this short heh. Well, sort of. The migraine helped on that front. Next time, I probably won't be so lucky.

Thank you to: WildDaisies10, Frogster and Jisbon4ever for reviewing _think of something else_. It's much appreciated.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** The Butterfly Effect  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Notes:** Written for the mentalistprompt ficmeme. The prompt was 'Butterfly' and supplied by Chiisana Minako

**The Butterfly Effect**

What if there was no Red John?

0

Van Pelt never lost her cousin to the serial killer. Was never blighted by death at such a young age that it gave her the desire to fight back, to become a cop.

Instead, she was stuck in an inane office job, doing the filing for lawyers charging far too much by the hour than was entirely necessary. Was always left wondering whether or not she could have made more of herself and wishing for a better life. She wasn't happy and didn't know if she ever would be.

0

Rigsby never chanced upon that Red John crime scene in the middle of a burning building. The serial killer, having never existed, never felt the need to burn down the shabby apartment block to cover up the evidence after a botched murder.

He stayed as a firefighter and was relatively successful at it. Then, there was the tragic accident at work. Nobody could have survived what happened to him.

0

Not much changed for Cho.

He just spend less time on paperwork pertaining to the Red John case and more time on paperwork for others.

0

The same applied to Lisbon. Sort of, at least.

She still transferred over to the CBI and still became the senior agent of the SCU. Without Jane, her team never had the highest closed case rate though - they were close, but never quite made it. Therefore, she just didn't progress any further than that and always got passed over for promotions. Male colleagues always seemed to receive preferential treatment and that left her feeling a little bit bitter.

Waiting for that big break was never her strongest suit.

0

Jane never quit the psychic business. He had no need to - there was nobody to knock his conscience in the right direction. He was rolling in cash, the attention stroked his ego at every turn. His wife wasn't happy though because he simply didn't know when to quit.

She left him and broke his heart. Jane's daughter was left essentially fatherless at twelve and visited her Dad weekly, hoping desperately for a change in his condition.

There never was one.

000

"Hey, Lisbon?" Jane sits up and gazes over at her from her couch. "Have you ever wondered how different our lives would be if Red John didn't exist?"

"Jane," she whines, not even bothering to look at him. She doesn't much like being disturbed from her paperwork for philosophical questioning. "Do something useful. Or sleep."

He leans back down and stares at her ceiling. No Elvis here, he muses. Not that it makes too much difference - Lisbon, even in a foul mood, is far better company than a stain on the ceiling. But there is only so far you could and should push her after a stressful day. Jane automatically knows it would be better to leave her alone.

Well, for today anyway.

end


	37. Used To Be

**A/N:** Thank you to: Frogster, Jisbon4ever, anthropologist, Viktorija and Famous4it for reviewing _The Butterfly Effect_.

This was written for forthecoast in the fic meme - the prompt was 'surface tension'.

Now to find out what we're actually doing today. I think it's stopped raining...

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Used To Be  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Rating:** T  
**Notes:** Written for forthecoast in the LiveJournal mentalistprompt fic meme.

**Used To Be **

She used to be cool, calm, competent.

_Used_ to be.

Back in the day.

Then, she was a force to be reckoned with. Somebody who meant business and everyone around her knew it. Nobody doubted that she deserved her position with the CBI, least of all herself. When she made senior agent, Teresa Lisbon knew that she had finally gotten her life back on track after that horribly chaotic start.

That was before she met Jane.

Before she had her life turned upside down once more. Before he managed to break through her carefully crafted exterior. Before he disturbed the relatively tranquil peace, burst her bubble as it were.

Before.

They've grown a lot between then and now. Then again, she's always been just a little bit stubborn, so it was always going to take just a little bit of time.

There's been a lot of hurdles to jump over.

Trust issues.

Red John.

Control issues.

_Red John._

Some of them still exist, naturally, but today of all days, they both deserve a brief reprieve.

It's been a particularly hellish sort of hell and all she wants to do is forget.

Jane pushes her against her front door. Forcefully enough to know he means business, gently enough not to hurt.

She wishes she could be surprised that this is happening, but really she can't.

His breath is warm and his mouth, wet, eager, peppers kisses on the exposed skin of her neck. He's an expert when it comes to body language so naturally, he knows exactly what makes her tick.

Lisbon tries to stop him, albeit rather lamely. Instead, she allows herself to melt into his kiss. She's already falling into oblivion, there's little she can do to stop it now.

His hands run down her sides. She shudders in response. Her fingers claw at the waistband of his pants. Stupid, stubborn material.

There's no going back now, she realizes. She's an active participant. It's not just happening, she _wants_ it to happen.

She wonders where it all went wrong.


	38. Red Screen of Death

**A/N:** So, it looks like I have another excuse to bring back this collection from the dead. Oops? Sorry? I don't know.

Thanks to: Viktorija, Famous4it, yaba, PhoenixWytch, Frogster, Jisbon4ever, forthecoast, Aeidhryn and TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme for reviewing _Used To Be_.

And here's another short batch of silliness.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Red Screen of Death  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Rating:** T  
**Notes:** You know those ideas where you say no, I shouldn't write this, but do anyway? This is one of those. I also entirely blame miss_peg, who inspired this. Also for prompt 016: fun and games on mentalistprompt.

**Red Screen of Death**

"You broke my computer."

"I did nothing of the sort."

She narrowed her eyes at him and Jane frowned. Why was she suspecting that it was him who had toyed with her machinery and broken it? It wasn't as if he used it that often, was it? Still, he watched as she stalked away from his couch and back to her office. No doubt to wage war with the computer once more.

Jane smirked and stood up. He'd been quite comfortable on the reassuring leather that made up his favorite piece of furniture, but teasing an antsy Lisbon was all too tempting. Besides, it wasn't as if he was getting much sleeping done. If anything, he was growing more than a little irritated at the fact that he wasn't able to rest and that every single noise was getting to him.

At least actively staying awake and irritating Lisbon felt like it had ever so slightly more purpose to it than the alternative did.

With a spring in his step that belied his exhaustion, Jane bounded towards her office. As he suspected, she was frowning at the computer and dubiously tapping at the keyboard, as if that would help. He knew that she was pretty au fait with technology; she had to be, to do her job. But still, sometimes her stubbornness meant that she refused to ask for help, even when she was completely stumped. It was that that sometimes meant she wasn't quite as good a team leader as she could have been. It also meant that sometimes, she worked far harder than necessary. Jane knew that if she took a step back, than her health would benefit from it no end. However, this was Lisbon and he was also being ever so slightly hypocritical.

"What do you want, Jane?"

Huh. She didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

"To see how you're doing."

"As if you have any technological skills whatsoever," she said with a derisive snort.

"Says the woman who's blaming me for the state her computer is in right now."

She frowned. "Yes, I'm blaming you because generally, you seem to have no idea what the hell you're doing and I know you used it last night."

"How?"

"I saw you."

"Ah."

Jane walked around her desk and hovered beside her. The screen was blank; it didn't even look like it had been switched on, never mind anything else.

"Ah, the blank screen of death. That's generally not good."

"Don't you think I know that?" she answered with a scowl.

"I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you."

He knew that she would be marginally confused by the fact that he had decided to leave so soon after bothering her, but that was half the point. It was always best to confuse the enemy rather than continually face them head-on. Not that Lisbon was the enemy. No, she just provided him with many hours of amusement and kept him sane to boot.

"Jane!"

Jane grinned as he relaxed back into his couch. Yes, she had just discovered that all he had done was loosen the wire connecting her screen to the computer last night.

Oh and leave a cheeky comment on her desktop to greet her this morning.


	39. Tomorrow

**A/N:** Another holiday fic, this one is relatively short so I thought I'd stick it in here. I'm also feeling rather under the weather now. Boo.

Thank you to: donnie234, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, Aeidhryn, Agent ERA and anthropologist for reviewing _Red Screen of Death_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Tomorrow  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane, Cho  
**Notes:** Written for ranger_girl0301 as a part of the holiday fics challenge.

**Tomorrow**

They are the last two left in the bar.

Lisbon drifted off home hours ago, with Van Pelt in tow. The younger of the pair may have settled down in her role, and have worked for the team for years, but she still has that innate instinct to try and please. It also helps that Lisbon lives in the same suburb as Van Pelt and was more than happy to share a cab home.

Rigsby, naturally, loitered for a while longer, but soon realized that without Van Pelt around, he had little he could be bothered to stay out for. Besides, they _do_ have work in the morning. However much the man keeps telling himself that his flame for the redhead had long since been extinguished, it's a lie. It doesn't matter though; there's nothing wrong with hope. Who knows what the future may hold?

If you'd told Jane a year ago that, by now, Red John would be tried and convicted in a court of law, he'd have laughed in your face.

Red John has destroyed so many lives, leaving tatters in his wake. So many people have been left, trying to pick up the pieces, though not entirely knowing how or why.

Jane is one of the many among them.

Today is meant to be a victory for him. Right now, he cannot tell if it's a hollow one or not.

Time will tell. It always does.

At least he's not regretting handing Red John over to the team, or not yet, anyway. Somehow, he realized that if he'd taken matters into his own hands (again), then he'd cause irreparable damage between him and them. And that's a sacrifice too far to make. Or at least it is, now. Things haven't exactly changed since the Timothy Carter incident, but his thought processes have.

This is meant to be a celebration of their achievements and instead, his mind is all over the place. Jane knows that it'll settle down eventually. It'll just take time.

"I've been thinking about moving on."

It's the truth, brutal in its honesty. Jane had always been insistent that when the Red John case was closed, that his association with the CBI would be over. Jane isn't lying when he says he's thinking about it, it doesn't mean that he actually will. Instead, it more means that he doubts whether or not it's the right thing to do. Really, what he wants is confirmation that he's still wanted. He could go to Lisbon for that, but sometimes, she's as overprotective of herself as he is of himself. And truth be told, there's more than meets the eye in his relationship with her. Just because the Red John case is over, it doesn't mean he's ready to face that yet.

Instead, Cho's no-nonsense, and straight to the point. He won't beat around the bush or look for the hidden meanings. Cho looks marginally surprised at Jane's outburst. He places down the bottle of beer and there's a slight, noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.

"You have everything you need here," Cho says.

He's right. Like Rigsby's denial about his debilitating crush on Van Pelt, Jane's been in denial too. He's tried to push these people away, to act as if they don't mean a thing, when really they do. Lisbon described them as his family and in a way, she's right. Jane doesn't always like them, nor they, him, but they still stick beside him. Like a family does. Without them, he doesn't know what mess he'd be in.

Red John would probably have consumed him, or else, still be at large, at the very least.

Now that he's been sent to death row, things should theoretically start getting better. It just takes one day at a time.

Tomorrow's always another day. And if things keep improving, then who knows where he'll be in a year's time?

"Why bother?" Cho continues, almost as if he knows what Jane's trail of thought is.

Why bother, indeed.


	40. Soulless

**A/N:** Shattered again. And only just remembered I actually needed to post this.

Thanks to: TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, SteeleSimz, LizfromItaly, Aeidhryn, Brown Eyes Parker and anthropologist for reviewing_ Tomorrow_. I'll reply when I'm next not working.

And honestly, this is really not that great. In fact, it's probably very bad. I was just trying to get the old writing cells working. It's a little hard when you're (figuratively) falling to pieces.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Soulless  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Red John  
**Notes:** Written for the Paint It Red Jan 2012 Monthly Challenge.

**Soulless **

He remembers the first kill like it was yesterday.

He'd been young – too young, even – to be considering such a thing.

Still, he'd done it. It wasn't even self-defense. He'd just wanted to teach somebody a lesson they wouldn't forget in a hurry. Remind them that there are two sides to every story, repercussions for every action.

It had just gotten a little out of hand, as such.

But he doesn't regret it, not for an instance.

Death changes you. Death _always_ changes you.

For the victim, it's the end of everything. For the culprit, it's another hole in the heart, another fracture in the brain. Another stone in his shoe and it reminds him of exactly what he's done with each and every step.

It's somebody else to think about, to take to carry to the grave.

With the number of people he's killed now, it's like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

However, he tries not to think of it that way. Tries to remind himself of the good, of the positives.

Of why he does what he does.

But it's hard. Especially so when people think he's a monster, think he does it for fun, because he _enjoys_ killing.

No. That's wrong. It couldn't be further from the truth.

If he enjoyed killing, then yes, he'd agree with the catcalling, the names thrown about. The marring and disgust he's had to endure for years.

Times don't change. Year on year, people make the same mistakes; hurt one another in the same ways. Each year, he wishes and hopes that things will change, but it never makes the blindest bit of difference. The vendettas against him have grown, as have the personal attacks. It's all much the same as the trigger for his original kill, but he's grown, even if the world as a whole hasn't.

But he's gone from correcting individuals, making them aware of their wrongdoings, to teaching the world as a whole.

And he's gathered, not friends, exactly, but people who share his sentiment. Those who share in the wonders of life as a whole and dream of a life where people live and let live. Where they don't point fingers, call out names and accuse just because they disagree with somebody.

There was a reason he'd chosen to reinstate an old personal vendetta. Patrick Jane had called him _soulless_ on that damn television show.

Being a killer doesn't make you soulless.

Sometimes, it means you have even more than the average person.


	41. Hypocrites

**A/N: **So now, we take a step back from the creepy side of things and return to the regularly scheduled J/L friendship type things? Yes? Yes.

Thank you to: anthropologist, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme and Aeidhryn for reviewing _Soulless_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Hypocrites  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Notes:** Written for ch19777 in the holiday fics challenge. And see, I can keep things short.

**Hypocrites **

There's a hubbub of noise surrounding her.

Lisbon weaves through the gathering crowd, surprised at just how many people had turned up.

Then again, it isn't really surprising at all. Not when she really thinks about it.

Red John is big news. He's always going to hit the headlines. Even in death, he cannot escape it. The serial killer is just that infamous.

It's ironic, really. There are celebrities who'd kill (literally) to have the same kind of notoriety as Red John had once indulged in during his life. And in his death, too, for that matter.

But today's not inherently to do with Red John.

It's mostly to do with Jane and what he's done.

The doors aren't open yet and part of her wishes they would just hurry up and get this farce over and done with. Lisbon knows that the rest of her team (if they'll ever be _her_ team again, that is) are here somewhere. They told her they would, at least. Each of them had said they'd wanted to offer him some sort of moral support.

Not that she suspected Jane would need it. If their previous discussions were anything to go by, then theoretically, Jane shouldn't regret his actions at all. And he'd be more than happy to accept whatever punishment goes his way.

Including death.

Though, of course, she doesn't think he deserves that. What he's done (if he's done it, she can't shake that lingering thought just yet) has ridded the world of an undeniable evil. Really, he's just done them – and everybody else, for that matter – a massive favor.

However, a life is a life. That's something that cannot be denied. If Red John had died lawfully, then…

She shakes her head as she waits impatiently.

The gossiping is driving her insane; it almost feels like it is slowing time itself down. There's people she vaguely recognizes dotted around, some from work, others maybe from cases or other agencies they work with. Then, of course, there are just the random people who have no other interest in the case other than sheer morbidity.

They're all here for one reason and one reason only: to see if the CBI hired a guilty man, a murderer.

They want to see if one of the big crime-fighting agencies in California has made such a massive, damaging mistake. How they'll survive if Mr. Jane is guilty.

None of them care about the human cost. Nor do they care about the personal issues involved. Jane's vendetta, the people he cared about, those who are close to him…

They're just here for the hottest gossip.

They want to judge him themselves, with their own eyes, as if they've never done anything wrong in their sorry little lives.

And she hates that most of all.


	42. Masquerades

**A/N: **Head killing me, work tomorrow and I'll probably feel just as bad as I do now in the morning. Yeah, that's just swell.

Thanks to: anthropologist, LizfromItaly, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, sandlinecra and Aeidhryn for reviewing _Hypocrites_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Masquerades  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Lisbon, Van Pelt  
**Notes:** Written for Miss Peg as a part of the holiday fics challenge.

**Masquerades**

You watch as her hand twitches nervously. Then, she picks out her pen, the one with the chewed cap on it, the one she always uses when she's nervous, or irritated, or annoyed, or worried and instinctively, she starts tapping it against her desk.

Tap, tap, tap.

She doesn't even notice you observing her. Either that or she doesn't care, which is far less likely. You know Lisbon doesn't like being scrutinized, being treated like an animal caged in the zoo. She doesn't tolerate it with Jane, so why the hell should she tolerate it with you?

That's the point, really. She wouldn't, so she _can't_ have realized.

She's too preoccupied for that.

There's a very finite list of things that could lead to such a state. It's always something personal, close to her.

Over the years you've worked under her tutelage, she has slowly opened up. Not by much, but a little bit. It's satisfying, whenever she dares to share a tiny scrap of detail about herself. It's like she's at least trying to show willing, to break down the barriers that she's built between herself and other people. Between the two of you. But still, it's enough for you to consider a friendship, a bond. It had been enough for you to ask her to be your bridesmaid (and for her to accept, though sometimes you do wonder if Jane had hypnotized her into saying yes.)

But all that's beside the point. It doesn't explain what's wrong with her right here, right now.

Realistically, even you know there are only three things that have her so on edge. Her brothers and their families, something having happened to one of them (most likely, Tommy) and her waiting impatiently for news. Some kind of threat to her job, whether that be an ex-convict she put behind bars out for revenge or in-house manipulation.

Or Jane.

There's all manner of things Jane can (and does) do to anger her so. Crazy stunts, chasing up supposed Red John leads and him not opening up about. Him risking his own life (and that of other people) just to show how _clever _he is.

Him pushing her away…

Lisbon thinks she has herself all masked up, that nobody can tell when she's really hurting. She protects her inner demons fiercely and justifiably so. It's only recently that you've begun to understand why someone would want to do such a thing. To cut themselves off from the rest of the world, to pretend they were fine when really, they were far from it.

If you could pretend that Craig hadn't hurt you so terribly, you would. But you can't. She knows, they all know. And they all know how to get inside your shell already. It's too late.

You run a hand through your hair before taking a sip of coffee. Still, you're watching her. She knows how to help you, but you can't do the same for her. It's just not fair. You just wish you could go and offer her your help, your support.

She stares at her phone determinedly. It doesn't ring. The pen keeps tapping against her desk.

If only you had the words, the confidence, to try and make everything that little bit easier for her. The ability to tell her that you're there for her, just like she is for you.

Problem is you just don't know how.


	43. The Search is Over

**A/N: **So, I keep finding things from the Holiday Fics challenge I did in January, but forgot to post. Better late than never, I guess?

Thank you to: Lothlorien Aeterna, Aeidhryn and FARISWHEEL for reviewing _Masquerades_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** The Search is Over  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Angela, Jane/Lisbon  
**Notes:** Another story I should have posted in January but forgot to do so. Written for SteeleSimz as a part of the holiday fics challenge.

**The Search is Over**

Dear Angela,

I've got a lot to tell you. Things have changed a lot since I last wrote to you. In fact, it's been a long while since I last wrote to you at all. But things get in the way, I'm ashamed to say. They often do, but it's no excuse, not really. Sophie always said that writing was therapeutic. Yes, I scoffed at her, but really, she does have a point. I should learn to take other people's advice, sometimes. I always (fine, sometimes) took yours on board, but that doesn't mean that nobody else has anything of use to say.

Anyway, I know that this won't get to you. Nothing can get beyond the grave, but this is meant to make me feel better. Instead, I'm just rambling because to avoid getting to the point.

Partially because I don't want to get to it. Then, I'd have to admit to something which I'm kind of ashamed to admit to. But equally, I shouldn't have to feel any shame because in reality, it's a good thing. It doesn't mean that I feel any different about it, however.

I wish I could say that the news was good. That I had finally found and killed Red John in your name. But would you really want that? You always hated violence and yet, for years, it's all I've been able to think of doing. It's been my way of staying afloat, of keeping my memories of you and Charlotte alive. Without it, I wouldn't have had anything to cling onto. It isn't the act of revenge, per se, it's just a way of keeping you close without you actually being here.

But the thoughts of revenge are slowly dissipating, growing more and more distant.

The thing is, I think I've met someone. She's not at all like you. She's stubborn, abrasive, and almost rude. But there's something about her. It's hard to explain, I shouldn't even really bother trying. Besides, what's the point in comparing the two of you? You're like chalk and cheese, apples and oranges. Both of you are so different, but good at what you do.

And I think I love her. Not like I love you; nobody could fill the hold you've left in my heart. No, she's found her own space, I think.

And I believe I could be happy with her. It's been such a long time since I last believed that. I hadn't even been looking for happiness, but somehow, it might have found me. If only you'd let me.

Will you? Please?

I'll take your silence as an affirmative, because I know there's no other way of getting an answer. It's a literal impossibility.

My love to our little Charlotte. Give her lots of hugs and kisses from me. Tell her that her daddy misses her and wishes he could see her again.

And you, I'll always love you, Angela. I just want you to share me with somebody else.

Love always,

Patrick xxx


	44. Like Clockwork

**A/N: **A belated flashfic for Lothiriel84. Happy birthday!

Thank you to: Little-Firestar84, Lothiriel84, Frogster and Miss Peg for reviewing _The Search is Over_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Like Clockwork  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Notes:** Written for Lothiriel84 - happy birthday.

**Like Clockwork**

Like clockwork.

She reacts to his behavior, to his actions, to his motives.

She knows him like he knows her.

It's taken her longer to be so in sync with him, but then, she doesn't have the same capabilities. It's required a lot of fine-tuning to understand him so well.

But it's worth it, it's always worth it.

Jane needs her. He knows he needs her too. And in a way, she needs him too. It's not quite such a visceral, deep need, but it's a need nevertheless.

They dance on a dangerous knife-edge, but it's worth it.

And some days, they get to pretend.

That everything's okay.

That Red John isn't breathing down their necks.

That they are just normal people, comfortable in each other's company.

In reality, she's pretty good at putting those thoughts to the back of her mind.

After all, death threats are a part of the job description.

Keeping Jane sane is less so, but it's a mantle she takes on willingly.

She watches out for any changes in his demeanor.

That's what tells her the most about him.

She knows when he's reeling from the loss of his family. She can tell when he's particularly fearful of Red John, even if there appears to be no apparent trigger for that fear. Or if something else has triggered a particularly depressive state. A fleeting memory from the past, a ghost, or even nothing at all can all cause his mood to turn on a dime.

And that's when she makes sure she keeps him especially close.

It's a task she cannot entrust onto anybody else. She wouldn't say she's a control freak, but Jane is unpredictable and rash. There's no way she'd force somebody else to deal with him when he's like that.

But lately, he's been better anyway. She's not needed to intervene, but she stays close by regardless. Just in case.

Still.

He's more optimistic about the future.

Hopeful, even.

And he's more open with her.

It's not that he doesn't trust her. On the contrary, he trusts her implicitly and she knows he yearns to have that reciprocated. It's more a case that he's deliberately secretive because 'deniability' is her best friend. And, for some unfathomable reason, it keeps her safe.

Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't.

Right now, she doesn't know either way.

But what she does know is that she can see some sort of silver lining in the future.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

Jane is more whole, more complete now, than he has been for many years.

Even he's thinking of what could possible happen after Red John.

He's even started talking about 'after', which is something she had once never believed he'd ever dare to say.

And naturally, she feeds off that.

His hope is hers too, after all.


	45. Cinnamon Spice

**A/N:** With thanks to Miss Peg and Lothlorien Aeterna for reviewing_ Like Clockwork.  
_

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Cinnamon Spice  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters:** Van Pelt  
**Notes:** Written for Dec 2nd in the Winter PIRvent Calendar on Paint It Red.

**Cinnamon Spice**

_2__nd__ December 2012_

A day off from work was always bliss in Grace Van Pelt's eyes. Even more so when it was the first day off she'd had in December, and therefore, she could officially start her Christmas preparations without any fear of embarrassment. After all, Thanksgiving was now over and there were no important birthdays to consider until next year. That meant she was free to express her excitement for what was officially her favorite holiday by far.

She never told anybody that she mentally prepared for Christmas months in advance. Occasionally, Van Pelt even bought presents as early as August if she ever happened to see what she considered as being 'just the right thing' for somebody. In Wayne Rigsby's case, she had bought it just after his most recent birthday, in July, but that had been under special circumstances. It was unique, handmade and she knew she had to grab hold of the chance while she could. If she dared tell anybody that, they would have ridiculed her for her 'overzealous' planning, but Van Pelt knew it was far better to be over-organized than having to endure the mad dash to the shops in late December.

Her fingers curled around her cup of hot cocoa, with whipped cream and cinnamon as her lips curled into a smile. She hadn't okayed it with her boss yet – Lisbon always loathed the mention of Christmas until approximately fourteen days before the event – but Van Pelt had big plans for the bullpen this year. This time, she was really hoping she could get the others immersed in the Christmas cheer. As far as she was concerned, they all deserved it. It had been one hell of a year, and they needed to remember the nicer sides of life as well. It had taken Van Pelt a long while to get over Craig O'Laughlin and only now, was she feeling truly like she was back to herself. Her enthusiasm for this year's festive celebrations said as much to herself as it did to other people. And if she was smiling again, all she could do was hope it was infectious.

Piles of colored paper and enchanting pictures of kittens and puppies wearing Santa hats surrounded her. Streaks of glue ran down her jeans and her lounge looked like it had come off worse in a glitter factory explosion. Van Pelt didn't care though; in fact, if anything, she felt like she was in a rush. It was later than she would have ordinarily liked to have started her Christmas card making routine, but work had kept her particularly busy this year. Still, she was determined to get it done. As far as she was concerned, people always appreciated it just that little bit more if people put the effort into making their cards over buying them with the weekly food shop. Besides, she wanted to show just how much she cared to her family and friends, and this was one of the many ways she chose to do it.

It was also tradition. This was something she had done with her mom every Thanksgiving in preparation for Christmas. Time and distance prevented them from doing it together, but Van Pelt continued to do so just to feel that little bit closer to her parents. She knew her mom – an ardent cat lover and owner of three raucous tabby boys – would utterly adore the tabby kitten she had glued onto her parents' card. Van Pelt knew she would lament about the fact their _only_ daughter would be spending yet another Christmas away from her when the mailman delivered it. But she also knew that the card would remind her that her family was always on her mind, even if work constraints kept her away from them at this special time of year.

Slowly, she placed the cup of cocoa back down and licked a spot of cream away from the corner of her lips. She had to continue making these cards before she ran out of time for posting them, but she didn't mind in the slightest. The Christmas season was well and truly upon them and for the first time in a long while, Grace Van Pelt could honestly say that she couldn't have been much happier.


	46. Hot Tea and Tranquility

A/N: Thanks to MerriWyllow, 666BloodyHell666 and vanrigsby for reviewing Cinnamon Spice.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Hot Tea and Tranquility  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Red John  
**Notes:** Written for Toya (aka janesbiotch) in the Paint It Red Stocking Swap.

**Hot Tea and Tranquility**

Contrary to popular belief, Red John is quite a normal man. He just has a very unusual hobby.

Oh, some people call him a psychopath, a sociopath, or just plain evil. But they oversimplify the matter; they cannot see the shades of grey hidden in between. After all, he's still _human_. He can still feel a whole range of emotions, as deeply as the next person. Guilt certainly isn't a foreign concept to him. Neither is love. Nor anything else that any one person can feel, either.

In truth, the only thing that is truly different about him is the way he views the world. He can see things that others can't. The evil that lingers behind a supposedly 'normal' person's eyes, he can see it. Red John is a vigilante. He sees it as his job to cleanse the world of wrong-doers, to knock people back on the right tracks, to make everything right. Just like a law enforcement officer, or indeed, an agent for the California Bureau of Investigation, sees it as their duty to uphold the law. In a way, it's just a shame that they cannot see eye to eye when it comes to their methodology.

For years, Red John has worked on just the one man. Patrick Jane. The conman, fake psychic and charlatan has been a perpetual thorn in his side for many a year. Sometimes, Red John finds that having an adversary who is almost as intelligent as he is fun, refreshing even. However, after so many years, it's wearing. He's tired of the mind games, tired of the fact that Mr. Jane simply does not appear to be as quick-witted as he first envisaged. Now, he just wants it to be over, so that he can focus on other, new, priorities. Even toying with the same person for so long can get a little dull to a serial killer.

But the game is not up. No, Red John is slowly but surely moving it into his final phase of his plans for Patrick Jane. Lorelei Martins proves to be a good little minion; she always does exactly what he wants, when he wants her to do it. She knows when to drop little tidbits and hints into Jane's palms and when to back away. It's been such a long while since Red John had a subordinate so trustworthy. Rebecca, Craig O'Laughlin, each one proved to be a waste of time eventually. Soon, it'll be over, he tells himself. _Soon_.

For now, he needs to relax. Everything is out of his hands (at the moment). He just needs to wait for everything to be put into place and then, he can finally, finally make a move. Humming gently under his breath, he makes his way to the kitchen. A cup of tea always goes down smooth. While many people he knows much prefer coffee, the delicate tastes of a hot cup of tea have always been far superior in his eyes. To him, it represents the complexity of life, and his life in particular. And irritatingly, it is another thing he shares in common with a certain Mr. Jane.

But that doesn't matter. He's always loved tea and isn't going to let a shared interest in it with somebody he despises so much drag him down.

Once boiled, he returns to his lounge and stares at his DVD collection for a while. There are the homemade ones, surveillance tapes from the CBI, recordings his made of his killings. He keeps them for old time's sake, as little reminders of what he's achieved in the past. However, he isn't in the mood for any of that. A classic is much more his cup of tea, for today, at least.

Eventually, he selects The Wizard of Oz. He's always had a penchant for Judy Garland. And besides, it's the perfect escapism movie. It literally takes him into another world, where things are so much simpler. In Oz, everything just feels right. It's a shame the same can't be said for this place.

But as the dulcet tones of Judy Garland fill his home, Red John relaxes. This, he decides, is bliss.


End file.
